


Savages

by yanagi



Series: Tony!SEAL verse [17]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-12-09 00:32:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 45,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11657892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanagi/pseuds/yanagi
Summary: Tim is hurt and the vacationing group head out to bring the perpetrators to justice.





	Savages

The town and spa do not actually exist outside my fevered imagination.

As ever, thanks to my wonderful betas, Jake and Jordre. These ladies are great.

 

Savages

Chapter 1

Francine was enjoying the Do. She always loved having lots of people in her house, but she was way off the beaten track, so she usually only got a few people from the swamp tours. These were her “honey” days, the days that she made enough money to keep her for several months. It didn’t hurt that everyone was good. They didn’t leave her a mess and actually helped with chores. Ami was good help, but she had classes, as she was trying to get through school in three years so she could get a job at the projected new grade school in the parish. She perked up as she heard her phone ring. But when she picked it up, she realized that it wasn’t hers. She hesitated to answer it, but decided it couldn’t hurt.

“Hello. This is Mr. DiNozzo’s phone.” 

She got a semi-hysterical girl on the phone who demanded to speak to AJ or Jet right now. She soothed the girl, saying, “Hush now. Calm down. What’s going on?”

“Who is this?” This was a different, older voice.

“Francine Reinye. I’m the owner of this bed and breakfast. Mr DiNozzo left his phone downstairs, so I answered it. What’s going on?”

“This is Penny ... Penelope Langston. I’m Tim McGee’s grandmother. There’s been ... an incident. Can I speak to one of the group, please?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll carry the phone up, don’t hang up.” Francine knew that something was badly wrong, so she hurried up the stairs and knocked on the door. “AJ! AJ! Wake up an’ put some pants on. Phone.”

Tony answered the door almost at once, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. “What’s wrong?” Obviously something was wrong, as it was 0700 and Francine sounded worried. He took the offered phone. “Thanks.”

Tony listened, his face getting dark with fury. He finally said, “We can be there in ... six to eight hours.” He hung up then said, “Our friend is hurt. His grandmother wants us to come. We’ll be checking out. Sorry.”

Francine shook her head. “What do you need?”

Everyone was awake, Tony’s tone of voice having alerted them that something was amiss. 

Gibbs joined Tony at the door. “What’s up?”

Tony explained quickly. “All Penny really told me was that Tim’s in the fuckin’ hospital, and she wants us all there.”

Remy, wearing nothing but shorts, started packing at once. “We need to get boots for Gibbs right away. Transport to ... where the hell are they?”

“Savannah is the nearest airport, I think. They’re in some damn spa out near the wildlife refuge. Yoga and some damn thing.” Tony was more interested in his phone than anything else. “I’ll see what I can do about ... getting us there.”

Francine was more than helpful. “You need to take your bikes with you ... I think Luke is at home. Let me call him.”

Cosmo said, kindly, “I don’t know what good that’ll do, but thanks.”

Francine smiled. “Luke is a private contract pilot. He’s got a ... huge ol’ plane that he takes things around in. Out in the Gulf and to places they have trouble truckin’ into or somethin’ needs moved quick. An’ he’s usually reasonable.”

Dean finished dressing and packing then got out of the way so Cosmo could do the same. Francine stepped into the room, turned her back and remarked, “I think we should take the talking downstairs; some people are still sleepin’.”

“Okay,” Tony agreed. “I’ll come down now to make arrangements, then go back up to pack.”

Ami popped out of her room, sleepy-eyed and messy-haired. “What’s going on?”

Francine explained quickly, then said, “Pack for AJ, please.”

Ami nodded, but pointed out, “You best put some more clothes on, homme.”

Tony made a sound that could only be described as “meep” and hurried to get dressed. 

It didn’t take them long to get packed and down the stairs. Francine was already in the kitchen, with her phone between her ear and shoulder. She was talking to someone in Cajun French. Gibbs joined her and began frying eggs. She hung up, took the pan off the stove and turned around.

“Okay, here’s the what. Luke has to fly up to Savannah anyway, good that. He’s got room for you and is willing to leave early to get you up A-sap. So, I’m makin’ grits. Someone make eggs. An’ the bacon is in the oven. Ami ... Ami? Where is that girl?”

Ami came in from the back yard. “I run over to see Dan real quick. I know Mr. Gibbs needs boots so I took his old ones down. Dan got a pair just like ‘em, same size. I bring ‘em up.”

Gibbs turned from his frying, took the boots and smiled at the girl. “Thank you, Ami. What do I owe you?”

Ami told him, “We’ll tack the price onto the bill. You can settle up with the credit card company.” She grinned quickly then turned to make toast. “No time for biscuits, just toast.”

Francine put grits on plates, added bacon, then handed the plate to Gibbs, who put a fried egg on the grits. Ami added buttered toast and the whole group sat down to eat. 

While they were eating, Tony’s phone rang. “DiNozzo.” He put it on speaker so everyone could hear.

“This is Sara again. Tim’s got a concussion and four broken ribs. The doctor says he’s got to stay for another day. When are you going to be here?” She sounded half hysterical.

“We’re leaving as soon as we can. We caught a flight from New Orleans to Savannah. Three hours there, then however long it takes to get from Savannah to where you are. Do you have GPS for your location?”

Sara panicked at once. “I don’t know. I don’t think my phone has that. How do I find out? Penny?”

Penny came on, her dry voice calm. “I’ll send you GPS from my phone. I’m sorry. I told her not to call you again. I’ll see you when you get here. The name of the spa is Namaste Mind and Body Yoga Center.” She hung up but it was only seconds before Tony’s phone rang again. This time it was the ringtone for a text.

Francine was also on her phone again. “Okay, you head down to the barn and get your bikes. They’re gonna be out front and gassed up when you get there. The Random boys are there and takin’ care of gettin’ ‘em out and ready. They got the directions to the airport for you too.” She just grabbed Remy and hugged him, “Y’all be careful. Bon voyage.” 

There was a flurry of hugging and cheek-kissing and Francine and Ami both insisted on hugging everyone and kissing their cheeks ”for luck.” 

They headed off at a hard trot that got them to the barn in less than five minutes. Their motors were being gassed from cans by two men, who quickly finished the job. One of them went back into the barn while the other called, “We gassed ‘em up; keys are in the ignition. Directions to the airport are in the trike’s GPS. Sorry for your troubles. Good luck,” then followed his brother back into the barn.

It didn’t take them long to gear up, do com checks, and get on the road. Jimmy checked his directions, then led out. “We’re going to Southern Seaplane Airport. It’s outside New Orleans.”

Dean asked, “Then why are we turning south?”

“Because the most convenient way is south to a ferry, cross the river, then back up. Otherwise we’d have to go way out of our way, as there’s no bridge from 39 to 23.”

They rode in silence until they reached the ferry. It didn’t take them long to pay the toll and get on the ferry. The crossing was quick and the crew too busy for gossip. After crossing the river, they turned back north and put the hammer down, racking the throttles up to 80 mph.

The trip should have taken right at an hour, but they made it in just under 45 minutes. There wasn’t much traffic, and they drove like the hounds of hell were nipping at their heels. No one wanted any more delay than absolutely necessary, so they were worried about loading their motors into the plane.

They stopped at the front desk to ask where Luke could be located, and the young man gave them directions to the hanger where Luke was storing his plane.

It turned out to be an old Goony Bird with huge side doors. Luke met them at the hanger. “Hello. You the Gibbs party?” He glanced at the motors and sighed. “Those might be a problem. I need ‘em palletized.”

Tony shook his head. “Not a problem. Gibbs, deal with paperwork.” Gibbs was still on the hurt list, so he didn’t object; the trip up had put significant strain on his foot, and it was aching again. “Dean, pallets. Luke?” Luke just pointed. “Good. Cos, Remy, help Dean. I’ll help Luke get them onboard.”

Luke blinked for a moment. “You in service?” Tony just nodded, as he was helping Dean drag pallets over for the bikes. “Active or retired?” 

Tony dropped the pallet he was moving beside Dean, then went over to Luke. “Active Navy,” he pointed to himself and the other three SEALs. “Gibbs is a Marine reservist, although he claims to be retired. And Jimmy’s our medic.”

Gibbs returned at a limping trot with papers in hand. “Here.” 

Jimmy handed him a packet of pills and a bottle of water. “Here, your own damn self. And get the hell off that.”

Gibbs, well aware that he was going to have to nurse his foot so he could be on it later, just took the pills and drank the water. He settled for leaning against the side of the hanger, with his weight off his sore foot.

It didn’t take them long to get the motors strapped to pallets and loaded on the plane after Tony admitted that he knew how to drive a fork lift. This didn’t leave much passenger room, but they managed. It was actually better than a C-130, as there were no small children, and the engines were actually quieter. They settled in to fly.

Luke was an older man who’d retired from the Air Force with twenty years’ service, bought his plane, and enjoyed the privilege of taking what jobs he wanted and telling the rest to shove off. He made a quick walkthrough, made sure everything was tied down properly and his passengers were seated. “I’m flyin’ alone, so there’s no coffee wagon.” He grinned at that. “You need the head, hold it. I’m sure you all know the drill. I’ll be finished with checks and whatnot quick. I’ll give you a heads-up before taxi, but that’s about it. The flight will take about three hours, maybe a bit more, depending on traffic. I’ll give you a holler before landing.” And with that he went to his seat and started flipping switches and checking things off on a clipboard.

They were soon in the air, and everyone did what they usually did on a flight like this: they went to sleep.

.

“Hey! I’m preparing to land. Last call for alcohol,” Luke hollered from his seat.

Everyone was awake instantly and hurried to make sure their belts were tight and everything was stowed safely. “Ok, we’re tight.”

The landing was textbook, and the taxi to their parking place didn’t take long either. Luke shut down, then got out to head to Airport Operations to close out his flight plan. That done, he headed back to help get his cargo offloaded. He was pleasantly surprised to find that not only had the pod unloaded their motors, but all the other cargo as well. 

Tony checked the clipboard in his hand, then said, “I checked the load list; everything was supposed to be offloaded here, according to the paperwork. We had to unload some of that to get to our stuff so we just did the rest of the job.”

Luke couldn’t believe it. “Man, you boys were fast. I wasn’t occupied more than ... thirty minutes doing my shut-down and paperwork.”

Tony shrugged. “We’re in a bit of a hurry.” He went to mount his motor. Everyone else was already geared up, mounted, and ready to go. They did com checks and took off, with Jimmy in the lead. 

Jimmy’s voice over the com announced, “We’re headed for a place called Purdysburg. It’s in South Carolina and is the closest place to the center, which is in Georgia. It’s not very big, population about 45,000, if that. Small clinic/hospital, bed capacity 50. The spa also has a very small clinic. I’m not sure where Tim is, neither Penny nor Sara said. So where do we go?”

Gibbs announced. “Sheriff’s station or FBI office. We’ll stop at the edge of town so you can find out which.”

Tony said, flatly, “I don’t care who fuckin’ thinks they have jurisdiction, we’re damn well takin’ it.”

“Damn straight.” Gibbs’ return left no doubt about that.

The ride took about an hour at 90 mph, a dangerous pace to keep on unfamiliar highways, but they were anxious to get there. Jimmy pulled them over about ten minutes out so he could find the Sheriff’s Office, or Highway Patrol station, where they could find out something.

The Highway Patrol station was way out in the county, which put it down the list. There was no FBI station nearer than Savannah, so they headed for the Sheriff’s Station, as it was closest to where they were now.

It was a tired, dirty bunch which entered the station at nearly noon. The desk officer wasn’t much inclined to let them in to see the Sheriff until Gibbs put two things down on his desk. One was his NCIS credentials; the other was his Spartan coin. Tony dropped his ID and coin next to Gibbs’. 

The desk officer took one look at the ID and coins, then the group. “I take it you’re here about that McGee guy. FBI’s already trying to claim jurisdiction.”

Gibbs snorted, collected his stuff and snarled, “Good luck with that.” 

Tony also picked up his stuff but kept silent.

The desk officer rolled his eyes but led the way into the Sheriff’s personal office.

They were just in time to hear someone say, “I said the FBI will be investigating this, not some jumped-up hillbilly with notions above his station.” The decidedly Northern accent added more insult to the proclamation.

Gibbs sighed. “Man, that is not going to go well.”

“Boss.” Tony sideoogled Gibbs.

“I’m not that bad ... am I?” Gibbs decided that he was going to let Tony handle contact with locals from now on.

“No, you’re worse. Let’s get this over with before the sheriff has a stroke.”

They just opened the door and walked in. Both the sheriff and the agent stiffened. The sheriff decided to keep his thoughts to himself when Gibbs flashed his coin and Tony his credentials. 

The FBI agent announced, “I am FBI Agent Bart Simpson and I’ve heard all the jokes so don’t bother. I don’t know who you are but this is a private conference. Leave.”

Tony cupped one hand behind his ear. “I didn’t hear a please in there. Sheriff ...” Tony got a quick look at the sheriff’s name tag. “Madigan. Did you hear the magic word?”

Sheriff Madigan shook his head. “Nope. Don’t believe I did. Now, who might y’all be?”

Tony did the honors as he knew better than to distract Gibbs from his intimidation of Bart Simpson. 

“Master Chief Petty Officer Remiel Andre Devereaux.” Remy nodded. “Chief Warrant Officer Dean Cale.” Dean offered a wave. “Chief Petty Officer Cosmo Richter.” Cosmo moved into the Sheriff’s line of sight. “NCIS Senior Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. And I’m Lieutenant Commander Anthony Jethro DiNozzo. Behind me is Dr. James Palmer, NCIS Medical Examiner.”

Sheriff Madigan looked a bit alarmed at that. “M.E.! No one’s died that I know of.”

“Jimmy’s along because we were on vacation in Louisiana when we got the word. Timothy McGee is NCIS, therefore, we have jurisdiction.” Tony gave the sheriff a congenial smile. “Beside, wouldn’t you rather deal with us? We’re much prettier than ... him.” Tony turned to give Agent Simpson the fish eye, backed by the rest of the pod.

Sheriff Madigan was impressed. He’d never seen a group like this before; he was just hoping they were on his side. He didn’t like Feds much. Some of them were great people, polite, respectful of his position and helpful; others were just jackasses. This Simpson guy was the second. He, the sheriff, was not inclined to be of use. On the other hand, guys who showed up with a certain coin and good manners, no matter that they were dirty and road-worn… well, he’d wait and see.

Agent Simpson remarked in a rather snide tone, “What makes you think you have the right to run this investigation? Or the authority?”

Gibbs didn’t take his eyes off the man or move a muscle, other than the ones necessary to say, “McGee is an NCIS agent and on my team. You really want to argue about this, call Fornell.” 

“Fornell? Senior Agent Fornell of DC? What’s he got to do with this?” Simpson looked like he was going to argue then snarled, “Fine. I’ll call him.” He went into a corner of the nicely appointed office to make his call.

While he was doing that, Tony turned to the sheriff. “Sorry about that little pissing contest. What can you tell us?”

The sheriff gave them a quick run-down.

McGee had been at the yoga retreat; he’d gone into town for some reason. Some locals had taken exception to the ‘fairy fag’ speaking to a girl and had attacked him. He’d managed to fight them off but, as they’d driven away, they’d run him over with their pickup. Other locals had witnessed the act, called 911, and given statements. He ended by telling them that McGee was in the local hospital with a concussion, which was the only reason he was still there; the doctor wanted to keep an eye on him for 48 hours in case of complications. 

Gibbs was still looking at Simpson with that squint-eyed glare that made even the SEALs a bit nervous. Simpson was turning red in the face as whoever he was talking to made his feelings plain. They could actually hear the shouting. Gibbs took the phone out of Simpson’s hand. 

“Who is this?” 

Tobias Fornell’s voice replied, “Who the hell do you think it is, numbnuts?”

“Toby. Nice to hear your voice. You read in yet?” Gibbs voice went from chill to warm in a split second. No matter what anyone might think, he and Tobias Fornell were friends. 

“Yeah. We’re officially turning the whole mess over to NCIS. Put that jackass back on the phone.”

Gibbs just poked the phone in Simpson’s general direction and let go of it. Simpson juggled it until he got it back to his ear. He listened for a moment then turned white. “Okay, okay. I’m going back to Savannah. Good-bye.” He shut his phone off with a quick jab of his finger. “I’ll leave you to it then.” And with that he left, slamming the glass door behind him.

Sheriff Madigan eyed it for a moment. “Northerners. If he’s broken that damn glass, I’m sendin’ the FBI a bill. So. I’ve got the reports all set out in our conference room. I’ll go over them with you if you like. Visitin’ hours are over until 2, and Doc’s a real bear about that. Says it keeps the patients from eatin’ right and takin’ naps. You read the reports an’ get a place to stay. Ruby’s Place, and that’s actually the name, is good. Restaurant on the premises that’s nice; bit common but good, plain fare. There’s a couple of really good places around; just ask at the desk. Now ... I’m off to get some coffee.” The sheriff just walked out, pointing to another glassed-in cubicle, “Conference room.” 

So the sheriff left them with a pile of reports and a hurt comrade that they hadn’t even seen yet. Gibbs thought for a moment, then said, “Jimmy, go see McGee. Remy, you go with him. No one goes anywhere alone until we’re sure this was an isolated incident. Cosmo, Dean, find us something to eat. AJ and I’ll start on the reports and get a summary worked up. Go.”

So everyone took off to take care of things. Jimmy asked at the desk and found that the hospital was just down the street, while a good restaurant was up the street three blocks. The much vaunted on-premises place was a lunch room that also served the prisoners. Remy opened his trunk and got out his service weapon and his carry permit. Jimmy, Dean, and Cosmo all followed his lead. 

Dean glanced around. “All this seems really new construction for this area. Wonder where the old part of town is?”

An officer who was entering the building overheard and came over. “You really want to know?” Jimmy nodded. The officer pointed off west. “Well, the old courthouse is historic, outdated, and useless, so we built a new, modern building about ... oh ... six years ago now. Turned the historic buildings into tourist attractions. We’ve got the sheriff’s station on this side, the police station on the other, with the jail right in the middle. The courts and lunch room are on the second floor; and judges’ offices, city clerk, and that on the third. Keeps everything central. We’ve got a secondary facility out in the county for long-term prisoners. The hospital is new, too. We didn’t have one until Doc got a grant. You need directions to anything?”

Cosmo said, “Sure could use a recommendation for a good place to pick up some carry-out.”

“Mom’s Buffet is really good. She’ll fix you up a plate for six dollars. Just don’t drink her coffee. Tea’s good, but her coffee is so weak it’s downright anemic. Java Pot, right next door to her ...” he pointed, “is the place for coffee.” He looked at his watch and announced, “I better get to gettin’, I’ll be late.” He trotted for the door, harness jingling. 

So Dean and Cosmo went to Mom’s to get food for themselves, Tony, and Gibbs. Jimmy and Remy said they’d pick up their own food after they saw McGee.

.

Jimmy wasn’t sure exactly where Tim was, so he stopped at the visitor information desk and asked the man there. “I’ll see, just a moment. McGee? Are you family? Visitin’ hours don’t start until 2pm.”

Jimmy shook his head. “No. I’m Dr. James Palmer, his physician of record. I’m also a personal friend. Are any of his family here?”

“Yes.” The man tapped his keyboard for a moment. “I’ve got a Sara McGee and a Penelope Langston on site. Can’t get them to leave but ...” he shrugged in a “what can you do” sort of way. “His physician ... the one here, is in his room now.” He smiled proudly. “We’ve got a tracking ... thing ... don’t know how it works exactly, but we can locate any staff member with it.” His phone rang just then, and he answered it, “Visitor Information. Dave speaking.” He listened for a moment then replied, “Dr. Palmer, his personal physician and ...” He looked at Remy who just handed his credentials over. “A Master Chief Petty Officer Remiel Andre Devereaux.” He mispronounced both Remiel and Devereaux. “I’ll send them up.” He handed Remy’s wallet back. “Go right up. Room 210. Elevator, turn left, second door on the left. Have a nice day.”

Jimmy just said, “Thank you. You too.”

They followed his directions and stepped into a modern hospital room with two beds. One was occupied by Tim; the other was empty.

Jimmy walked over and took Tim’s hand. Tim looked up a bit blearily and mumbled, “Gremlin, I didn’t know you cared.” 

Jimmy finished taking his pulse then grumbled. “Damn it, I don’t have a stethoscope. Nor a thermometer.” 

The older woman, who’d been watching with amusement, handed Jimmy a stethoscope. “Here. Use mine. And there’s a thermometer on the tray.”

Jimmy nodded absently. “Thanks.” He listened to Tim’s chest, took his temp, used the cuff attached to the bed to take his blood pressure, then did all the other tests to diagnose a concussion. “Double vision? Headache? Who’s the president? Do you wanna dance?”

Tim chuckled and answered, “No. Yes. Obama. And oh, hell no.”

Jimmy glanced around. “Ok, Penny, Sara. He’ll live. He’s concussed. I’d like to see x-rays?”

“Dr. Palmer. I’m Dr. Odell. I have his x-rays at the nurse’s station. This way.” Dr. Odell led the way. Jimmy followed, looking distracted.

Remy just settled in. “What the hell, man?”

Tim rubbed his face. “I’m not exactly sure. We came to the retreat, and everything was good. It’s nice there. I liked it. But I needed some razors and shaving cream. I don’t like their stuff. So I came into town to get some. Next thing I know some redneck dickweed is in my face about insulting his girl. He took a swing, I fought back. Whipped his ass too. But his buddies grabbed him and took off. Ran me down with their truck in the process. I’m not that good at flying so I hit the curb pretty hard.”

Remy felt like all the air had been punched out of him. Such a simple thing, going to buy razors, and this had happened. Someone was going to hurt, bad.

Jimmy returned to the room. “I checked your x-rays. Three cracked ribs, one broken. I’m prescribing a support belt for a bit, just to keep the broken rib protected.” Jimmy looked at Tim for a moment. “I know you’re going to be up and around, right in the middle of this investigation. I’ve prescribed some pills for you. Take ‘em.” He made some notes on Tim’s chart then smiled at him. “I sincerely hope you kicked ass.”

Penny chose this moment to get into the conversation. “I’m supposed to be a pacifist, but I find I truly hope so too. Now what do we do?”

Jimmy looked at her for a moment. He’d never actually met her, so he wasn’t sure what she meant. “Excuse me?”

Penny neatly edged the two men out into the hall. “Who should we notify? I called Tony at Tim’s insistence but I’m sure there’s other people to call. I just don’t know who.”

Jimmy thought for a moment. “Someone called the FBI. Gibbs sent that one on the run. Jackass. I really think we ought to just let Gibbs handle it.”

Penny made a face. “Oh, my lord, that one.”

Tim called, “Penny, leave it. Gibbs will handle everything.”

Penny looked like she was going to argue but her phone rang, cutting her off before she got started. “Hello?” She listened for a moment then practically snarled, “No, I have everything under control. His team is here.” She listened again then said, “I said no. And he gave as good as he got until a bunch of neo-nazi rednecks ran him over with a pickup truck.” She hung up with a sharp jab of her finger then turned her phone off. “Timothy, that was your father. He wanted me to offer what help he is capable of giving. Which is not much, frankly. He just wants to stick his nose in, disapprove, and ... I’m not sure what.”

Tim rolled his eyes then gave Remy a pleading look. Remy jumped on that, well aware of exactly what Tim wanted. “Miss Penny, why don’t you and Sara take the rest of the day off? Go back to the retreat, get a shower, a massage, change your clothing. Anything interesting happens, I, personally, will call you.”

Sara, who looked exhausted, brightened. “That would be nice. I came straight here from jogging.” She cast a rather guilty look at Tim. “But ... maybe I should stay?”

Tim waved a hand. “Go. You really believe you can do more for me than ... um ... that’s not coming out right.” He sounded petulant in the last sentence.

Sara snickered. “That’s okay. If Gibbs and that bunch can’t protect you…” she yawned. “Penny. Let’s go.”

Penny resisted a bit, then admitted that she needed some rest. She gathered her stuff, then kissed Tim on the forehead. “Call if you need us.” She turned to Jimmy. “Call.”

Jimmy, who was still reading charts, just nodded. “I will. But my advice, as a physician, is to get some food, sleep, and a massage. In that order. You can’t do Tim any good if you’re worn out.”

Sara kissed Tim on the cheek, then followed Penny out the door.

Tim sighed with relief. “Thanks, guys. I love ‘em to pieces, and I know they love me ... but they’re exhausting. They need constant reassurance that I’m not going to die on them.”

Remy promptly cast himself, carefully, on Tim’s chest, wailing. “Timmy! Oh, Tiny Tim. Don’t die!” 

Tim bopped him in the head. “Get off. Idiot.”

“Jerk.” Remy flopped into a chair. “So, how are you, really?”

Tim thought for a moment, then said, “I hurt all over, I can’t breathe right, I’m embarrassed and pissed. I was doing fine until the jerk ran, with some help. I just let him go and turned to go to my car, and the bastards ran me over.”

Remy knew that he should ask for descriptions and other information, but he decided to leave that to Tony, as he was the expert. 

Jimmy put the chart away. “Gibbs will be here soon to ask you all the annoying questions. You’re okay to answer. Tell me if you get too tired. I’ll stay, but ... Gibbs is livid and AJ is, frankly, homicidal. Be thinking about everything. I’d like to keep your debrief as ...” he grinned in the crooked way of his, “brief as possible. Rest.”

Tim just sighed, snuggled down as best he could on the thin hospital mattress, and tried to sleep.

Jimmy went into the hall to make a call to Tony.

.

Tony sat at one end of the table and Gibbs at the other. They each had a small pile of witness statements, some of them with only one page. They were still reading when Dean and Cosmo returned with four containers of carry-out. 

Dean put one in front of Tony, while Cosmo gave one to Gibbs. Dean told them, “We just got the special of the day. The buffet looked nice enough, but ... it’s meatloaf. How can you turn down meatloaf?”

Gibbs took his container, exchanging it for the files he’d already read. “Read.”

Cosmo started reading and eating. Tony did the same with Dean. Halfway through the meal Tony and Gibbs finished their last files and passed them on to Dean, and Cosmo and took the files they hadn’t finished reading. By the time they were done eating, they were done reading the files. 

Gibbs summed it up neatly. “Some fuckin’ redneck took exception to Tim existing. He decided to express his stupidity by beating him up. Got his damn stupid ass handed to him, so he rabbited. The driver fuckin’ ran Tim over out of spite. Bastards.”

Tony added, “They just called the wrath of God down on their heads.”

Cosmo shook his head. “The wrath of us. Worse.”

A voice from the door asked, “And why are you worse than the wrath of God?”

“God has mercy. We don’t.” 

Sheriff Madigan ambled in, sat down, and said, “I should give you all sorts of warnings and shit. I find I’m not inclined. All I’ll say is, don’t piss off the locals, be nice to my people, and don’t kill anyone. I’m pretty sure who did it, but I can’t prove it. My department is actually ... me, Dan Smith, Rachael Hind, Frank Watson, and half a dozen others. We dispatch through the highway patrol. The police department is about the same size, with six officers, which includes the chief. Of the five regular officers, one is part-time. We just don’t have the people, or the experience to deal with anything federal.”

Gibbs turned to Tony. Tony caught the ball and ran with it. “Okay. No insult to your people, but why should you? This is small-town America. I’m sure the worst you have to deal with usually is simple assault, drunks, family disputes, and that.” He went on to explain exactly who they were and what they could do, leaving the sheriff wide-eyed.

“Oh, holy hell. SEALs who are NCIS? And ... NCIS is Feds. Just tell me what you want.” 

Tony thought for a moment, then said, “Access to your facilities. Computers, records, that sort of thing. Introduction to your people. Cooperation. Do you think Tim is safe in the hospital?”

Sheriff Madigan thought for a moment. “I think so. What I think happened is ... they were drunk, stoned, something. Heat of the moment. They probably aren’t real local. I’d have heard something if they were. Locals actually like most of the people from the retreat. They don’t cause trouble and bring a significant amount of money into the area. Between taxes on the retreat, money they spend, jobs, and donations to this and that ... they built this whole complex.” He shook his head. “I’d really like to get this settled quickly. We don’t need the bad publicity, and I don’t like that sort of people around.”

Gibbs snarled, “A bad element only needs a toehold. We’re gonna cut off the whole foot.” He visibly calmed himself. “I’m plannin’ on handin’ out warrants. Bench, if your judge will cooperate. If not, I’ll round up a Fed who will.”

Sheriff Madigan shook his head. “I’m sure that Judge Parker will cooperate. She’s the no-nonsense sort.” He rubbed his face. “So what have you figured out?”

Tony consulted his notes, then Gibbs’. “Not a whole lot. I’d like to re-interview most of the witnesses. We’ve got a pickup. Perhaps a duallie, definitely a half-ton. Some people say it had a third wheel; others, some sort of tow setup. It’s primer blue/grey with a dark bed. Crew cab. No one’s sure, but it had to be, to hold five men. Also, the guy who attacked Tim was either out cold or had a damaged leg, as they carried him.”

The sheriff grumbled, “We already knew all that. I can add that we’re as sure as we can be that they aren’t local. My advice is to interview my officers and any PD who’ll speak to you.”

Gibbs thought about that for a moment, then turned to Tony. “What do you think?”

Tony glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly 1700 already. People won’t appreciate us dragging them away from supper. We need to find a place to stay, deal with getting set up. I want more weapons, frankly. All I’ve got is my service piece and a knife. I want my duty setup. I want to see Tim. I want to kill someone.”

Cosmo just moved to sit beside him. “Can’t off the asshole, makes people talk. Get whoever it is in jail. Leavenworth.”

Dean added, “Just remember, if you kill ‘em, they can’t suffer. So ... place to stay.”

Gibbs thought for a moment, then said, “The retreat. We’ll be wanting local, and they’ll put up with our odd hours. There’s yoga and stuff. I’ll call Penny. Give her something to do that’s a help.”

A quick call, and they were set up with a whole cottage to themselves. They did find that they had to take at least two classes, so they agreed on yoga and tai chi. Tony set the times as early as he could, which meant that they were getting up at 0600 for a class that started at 0630 and was a combined, advanced yoga and tai chi workout that lasted two hours, then a nice six-mile ruck run. Or the other way around, depending. After that, breakfast and on to investigating. Gibbs wasn’t that pleased, but realized that they were going to have to compromise, something he hated, or have no place to stay. There was a bed and breakfast with rooms free, but it was out the other way several miles. There was a convention at the retreat, and everything was full. He actually wondered how they’d managed the cottage.

Remy and Jimmy showed up just then. Remy settled at the table while Jimmy stood, shifting from foot to foot. 

Gibbs eyed him for a second then said, “Out with it.”

“Okay.” He gave a quick run-down of Tim’s condition, finishing, “All in all, he’ll be fine in a few. Even his knuckles. But ... if he had landed just a bit differently, it would be a completely different story. I want ...” he paused, clenching his hands into fists.

Tony nodded. “We all do. Come on. We’ve got a place to stay, courtesy of Penny. Let’s go.”

They all trooped out to their motors and went through the usual gearup, com check, start. They roared away toward the retreat, leaving several LEO’s behind, shaking their heads and wondering what such an unprepossessing group was going to do in their investigation.

.

Chapter 2

They arrived at the retreat and pulled up to the main building. An intense, earnest young man hurried out with a clipboard and a handful of brochures. “Hello. How are we today? Welcome to Namaste Mind and Body Yoga Center. We are one of the best wellness retreats in the country. We will do our very best to make your stay enjoyable. Now. Do we have reservations?”

Gibbs, pushed beyond what he was willing to tolerate, snarled, “I don’t know about you but we do. Gibbs.” Gibbs gave the boy a bitch-face while Herman, so his name tag read, looked them up.

He brightened. “Oh, yes. The investigators. We’ve given you a staff cottage. Every other place is full. It’s very nice, despite the fact that it doesn’t have some of the amenities our clients are used to having. It also has some things that most clients don’t want. Wi-fi. Cable TV. That sort of thing. Now,” he smiled, showing way too many big teeth. “You can eat in any of our dining facilities. If you have dietary requirements, just fill out the form ... oh, there won’t be any in the cottage. I’ll just have someone drop a couple by, shall I?”

Tony took over as it was obvious that everyone else wanted to strangle the kid. “Let’s just cut to the chase. Where is the cottage? No one has any dietary requirements other than food, and lots of it. And nothing weird. Is there parking space for our motors? And do not tell me clients aren’t allowed private vehicles. We’re on an investigation.”

Herman agreed with that. “Oh, no. There’s a nice garage under the cottage. Staff all have their own conveyances. It wouldn’t do to tie up a client conveyance for staff.” He glanced around. “I should have a cart here ... but I’m not sure it’ll keep up. How do you want to handle directions? And I have to come with... key-card clearance and all that.”

Jimmy pointed behind him with a thumb. “Get on. Tell everyone else where we’re going.”

Herman gave directions over the mic in the helmet he’d put on. It wasn’t long before they were pulling into the garage under the lovely little cottage they’d been assigned to.

The cottage was build half on the side of a hill with the concrete foundation looking like a deep wedge. The garage was built into the foundation, with a staircase up into the back of the house. 

They parked up, and Herman led them up the stairs, chattering the whole way. “I’m so sorry about your friend. We hate that anything happened to one of our clients. As soon as he gets back, we’ll have our physician give him a once-over.”

Jimmy cleared his throat. “I’ve already done that.”

“Oh, well, that’s nice. But we have an actual physician on staff. I’m sure you mean well.” Herman found himself facing a really pissed off James Palmer.

“I assure you that I am a physician. A real one. I didn’t spend eight years of my life studying to have you dismiss me like that.”

“Oh, I understood that you are a morgue ... something.” He waved a hand.

“I am an accredited Medical Examiner. I am Dr. Donald Mallard’s assistant. That means I’m an Assistant Medical Examiner. Not a morgue assistant. Now. Do your job.” Jimmy took a deep breath.

“I do apologize. So ...” he fiddled with the door then let them into the cottage. He quickly passed out key cards and got himself out the door, trotting away without a backward glance.

They took a quick look around and found that there were four bedrooms with two full-size beds in each one. The bathroom was huge, with a communal shower and two bathtubs; several sinks with attendant cabinetry lined one wall. There was a large living room; no dining room, but the kitchen was good-sized, with a table that seated at least eight comfortably. 

Gibbs dumped his luggage in one room, announcing, “I’ll take this room. Jimmy, you take that one. And AJ and Remy, that one. Dean and Cosmo, there.” He pointed as he spoke then said, “Jimmy, I’d put you in with me, but I know you’re uncomfortable sleeping in a room with me.”

Jimmy sighed. “Not uncomfortable, really. I’m just ... wary of your reactions. I don’t want you to slug me in the night.”

Gibbs just grunted. “Don’t touch me then.”

Jimmy stuck his tongue out at Gibbs, then dashed into his room. Gibbs laughed and aimed a kick at him, one he aimed to miss.

They dumped their luggage, then gathered in the living room. Gibbs had taken the opportunity to call Penny and found that she and Sara were staying in their cottage, near the phone, and just resting for the evening. He reported this, then called a campfire, something he’d learned from Tony.

Tony paced for a moment, then said, “We need to establish a presence. Let everyone know we’re on the job.”

Remy suddenly sat bolt upright. “Oh, fuckin’ hell. Anyone think to call Vance? Or Belt?”

Gibbs snarled, “No idea. I would have ... never mind. I’ll call Vance now. AJ?”

“On it.”

Tony called and wound up talking to his CO, Captain Rafe McKinley. He filled him in and was told, “Deal, man. No one jacks up one of ours. That’s just CATFU. You need anything, call.” And with that he hung up to kick his filing cabinet and swear.

Vance was also pissed. He understood why he hadn’t gotten an earlier call and agreed with Gibbs that someone should have called the minute they knew that Tim was NCIS, but done was done. He also advised Gibbs that he expected this Charlie Foxtrot to be dealt with “expeditiously.” Gibbs just grunted and snapped his phone shut.

Remy frowned. “So how are we gonna handle this?”

Gibbs rubbed his face, then stared at the ceiling for a moment. He finally said, “We’re not going to go in all guns blazing, but we’re going in in uniform. We’re going to make it very plain that this is not acceptable. And we’re going to be polite, until it’s time not to be polite ... then we’re gonna kick ass.”

Tony grinned, said, “Road House,” then dialed his phone. “I’ll have blacks sent to us overnight express. And Tim and Jimmy’s A-TACs.”

Jimmy sighed. “I just wish I had a rack of fruit salad. Impressive. But ...”

Dean snorted. “You’re entitled to the Caduceus on your collar. That’s impressive in and of itself.”

Tony spoke to someone, hung up, then grinned. “You know ... technically, Tim and Jimmy aren’t allowed to wear uniforms with patches. Impersonating a member of service.”

Jimmy thought about that for a moment then said, “But ... Due to my profession, I’m entitled to wear EMT’s uniform. And that’s basically BDU’s with appropriate patches. And Tim ... he’s technically not allowed, but he’s NCIS and we all dress in A-TACs with NCIS patches in the field. Right?”

Gibbs just snarled, “Anyone who objects ... send ‘em to me. I’m in the mood to eat someone alive.”

Jimmy shuddered and said, “Please don’t. I don’t want to have to worm you. Ick.”

Gibbs gave him a rather wide-eyed look, then started snickering. Everyone else laughed while Jimmy looked a bit proud of himself.

They checked the kitchen for food, but didn’t find anything, so Dean called the front desk to find out where they could eat. 

It turned out that there were several dining halls in the center: one vegan, one all sushi/sashimi, and the last was what they were referring to as “traditional healthy.” Gibbs grumbled that he really hoped the Japanese place could manage sukiyaki. Tony seconded that, so they decided on Japanese. 

It didn’t take them long to clean up, change clothing, and meet back in the living room. Everyone seemed to have had the same idea, as they were all dressed in some version of casual pants, rugby shirts and boots. Tony had chosen to wear his Navy shirt while Gibbs and Jimmy wore NCIS. Dean, Cosmo and Remy wore Navy. It didn’t come as much of a surprise that all the shirts were blue while all the pants were black. They all also wore light jackets to, hopefully, hide their sidearms. Each one of them had their 9mm tucked into whatever holster they favored. 

This was a bit odd, as all the SEALs, including Tony, favored shoulder holsters, while Jimmy and Gibbs wore paddle holsters in the small of their back. Tony had switched from shoulder to paddle for a while, but he’d switched back after he’d “busted” himself.

They headed for the central building, where all the offices, restaurants and spa services were located, trotting along at a decent pace. The small golf cart that had been left for them wasn’t large enough for all of them, and there was only one. So, they jogged it.

They arrived at the front door of the center, laughing at something Dean had said. They were greeted by some intense young thing who said, “Good evening, how may I direct you?”

Gibbs eyed the kid and decided that the whole staff had to be between 20 and 25, intense, earnest, and annoying. “Food. Japanese grill?”

“Oh, yes, right this way. It’s on the lower level, all the restaurants are. This floor is spa attractions. If you need a consult, all the offices are on the next floor up, as well as the conference space. The theater is located in a separate building and available for conventions and movies.” The boy babbled on about what was available where and the hours of operation. Gibbs let the chatter flow in one ear and out the other, absently noting anything of use.

Everyone snapped to attention when the boy said, “Of course, we’ll have to create some facility for you to check your guns at.”

Tony barked, “No! Absolutely not. There’s no fuckin’ way I’m allowin’ anyone on your damn staff to so much as touch my weapon.”

Various sounds of agreement had the boy objecting, “But! Sir! Our other clients ...”

Remy snarled, “Your other clients can go fuck themselves. We’re not turning our weapons over to anyone. Not with the SNAFU situation around here what it is.”

“Oh, I see. Well, just ... fine.” He waved a hand vaguely, a dissatisfied expression on his face. “We’re all ... very unhappy that Mr. McGee was attacked. This is the first time we’ve ever had trouble with a local. Any trouble.” He pointed, “Here we are. Enjoy your meal.” He scurried off to send a memo, via the inter-office network, that the ‘Feds’ would not check their guns and no one was to upset them by asking.

The restaurant turned out to be very Japanese in structure and decoration. Gibbs took over, bowing to the Japanese hostess and speaking to her in Japanese. “Seats for six, please.”

She giggled and said, “I do speak English.”

“I know, but I need the practice.” 

She led the way to a seating area, “We do have some non-traditional seating, if you’d rather.”

Gibbs nodded. “We’ll be fine.” He started to stoop to unlace his boots but straightened back up when the girl knelt gracefully to do the job. The rest of the group had zippered boots so they just ran the zip and stepped out of their boots, lining them up neatly in the cubicles that lined the hall.

“We have traditional seating on this side of the room and a more modern table there...” she motioned elegantly with one hand. “It has a well under it for your feet. Please feel free to choose either.”

They all went for the more traditional table because it had easy backs and thicker cushions. They all got settled quickly as they were all used to sitting cross legged due to their yoga practice; even Gibbs’ bad knees didn’t protest.

The hostess smiled cheerfully and slid the shoji open. “The view is considered quite elegant ... and soothing. You’ll notice that, although the door is glass, it does open, just like the shoji covers. If you’d like to walk in the zen garden, please feel free. There is fish food in the vase by the door. Please don’t feed them anything else; It’s bad for them.” She smiled again. “And they’re getting quite fat.” She bowed prettily, said, “Your server is Ayami. She will bring tea and menus shortly.” Then she padded away, kimono rustling softly.

Tony jumped a bit. “Phone.” He pulled it out of his pocket and barked, “DiNozzo.” He listened, then started snickering. “Oh, my god. Unbelievable. Well, we’re not surprised. I’ll tell the others.” He hung up then shut his phone off. “That was Vance. Symons has managed to alienate everyone on the DCPD, all the evidence crew, housekeeping, the forensic techs, Abby, and anyone who’s had contact with him. HR has actually told Vance that they do not recommend hiring him in any capacity. Vance told me that he’s had to beg DCPD to handle some of our work as Symons can’t keep up.” He stopped speaking as he was snickering too much to continue.

Jimmy shook his head then announced firmly, “If Vance thinks I’m coming back to fuckin’ deal with that ... that ... brain dead REMF, he can think again. No fuckin’ way. I’ll give that cocksucker a #10 sort-out but that’s all. He’s a damn TBI. He’s a walking GOMAR. He hasn’t got enough common dog fucker to come in out of the damn rain.” He scowled for a moment then said, “So not dealin’. He’s a total fuckin’ NUB.”

Remy blinked at this rant for a moment then said, “Homme, don’ hol’ back, you’ll hurt y’sel’. Tell us wha’ ya really tink.”

Jimmy eyed him for a moment then snorted, “Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Gibbs broke it up before it became an insult fest. “Boys, put a sock in it before you scare the server. We’re not dealing with that squirrel-bait; we’ve got other fish to fry.”

Dean nodded. “Really. Tim’s a lot more important that some bean-counting mortician’s illegitimate offspring.”

They were distracted from that whole line of conversation by the waitress entering the room. “Gentlemen. Tea.” She put her footed tray down on the floor and carefully poured tea into tiny cups, holding her long sleeve out of the way. She passed the cups out, then produced several cards from her obi. “Menu. We only offer the freshest foods here, so the menu only contains a few dishes. We offer different dishes every day. Please enjoy your tea.” She bowed from a kneel, stood, and padded out.

Gibbs looked the menu over then said, “Sukiyaki is on the menu. That’s what I’ll have.”

Tony also looked the menu over then said, “Boss, you took me to a place where you just went in, sat down, and ate. I really liked that. All they did was ask if there was anything you didn’t like or couldn’t eat.”

Remy nodded, he liked that restaurant and the old Japanese sushi master who seemed to always serve them. “Sounds good to me.”

Dean and Cosmo also agreed that sukiyaki and chef’s choice was a great idea. 

Jimmy only said, “I’d like to make sure there’s soba noodles instead of udon in the soup.”

They drank tea and looked out the window until the Ayami came back with more tea. “Have you made a decision? Do not hurry yourselves, there’s plenty of time.”

Gibbs just shook his head then said, in Japanese, “I’ll order for all of us. We’ll just have sukiyaki with soba noodles and whatever the boss likes.”

Ayami blinked for a moment then giggled. “Oh, dear.”

Gibbs switched to English. “I know my Japanese is rusty but is it really that bad?”

“Oh ... well ... um ...” Gibbs just made a get on with it sort of motion. “Your Japanese is fairly good. But ... you talk like a yakuza. It’s kinda kawaii.” She giggled again.

Gibbs shrugged, “I suppose I talk like a yak because that’s who taught me Japanese.”

Dean snickered, then whispered loudly, “Kawaii? That’s cute, right? Gibbs is cute.”

Cosmo eased away from him, muttering, “Gibbs and cute in the same sentence? Not good, dude. Seriously?”

Ayami rolled her eyes at the friendly banter then snickered as Gibbs said, “A pretty girl calls me cute, it’s fine. You, on the other hand, better watch it or I’ll pound you like a drum.”

She couldn’t resist. “Taiko or snare?”

Everyone cracked up completely, leaning on the table or each other as they laughed.

Ayami used a strange-looking way of walking, called shikkŏ, where she just rocked back on her toes and walked without standing up. She moved around the table, refreshing tea, straightening this and that and placing chopsticks and rests which she produced from a drawer in her tray. “I’ll turn in your order. If you need more tea ring the gong.” she pointed to a small gong near the head of the table, right at Gibbs’ elbow.

All the men had watched this with amazement. Dean shook his head. “Man, she’s good. I’d be on my ass in a second.”

This led to Gibbs giving them a short instructive lecture on the hows and whys of sitting kiza, seiza and agura, with a bit of demonstration by Tony. He had a bit of trouble shifting from Kiza, with the balls of his feet on the floor, to seiza, the typical Japanese kneel but his sigh of relief when he returned to agura made them all laugh. He moaned, “Man, I don’t see how people can do that for hours. It’s ok when all you have to do is kneel, bow then go into a workout, but ... ouch.” He grinned. “I can manage about ten minutes before I’m done.”

Just then there was a soft scratch at the door— it’s really not possible to knock on a shoji door. Gibbs called, “Haitte kudasai.” and an older man slid the shoji aside, set a footed tray-table beside the door, then entered. 

“I am Daniel Yokumuri. I’ll be preparing your sukiyaki. I understand that you wanted soba instead of udon?”

Jimmy said, “Yes, please. I like them better and no one else really cares.”

“I see. I do like them better myself. More ... chew.” He stood up and walked to the foot of the table, removed a section of the table top to reveal a burner and put a large, shallow iron pan on it. Settling again he offered, “I prefer to make small batches but, since there are six of you, I brought the large pot. I hope you don’t mind.”

Tony eyed the pot then said, “You’ll probably have to make two batches. We’re pretty big eaters.”

Daniel smiled, “I assumed such. I have other things to come. Chef is preparing a sushi/sashimi boat. Then tempura. No shabu-shabu as the dishwasher damaged the only pot we have. That is being remedied, but too late for us.”

He tested the temperature of the pan by dipping chopsticks into a small bowl of water then flicking the water over the surface. The droplets danced and sizzled, so he drizzled some oil into the pan, then added beef. “We don’t get kobe here, much too expensive, so I’m using grass-fed Angus. It’s not as tender but ...” he grinned, “still delicious.”

When the meat was seared, he added tofu, carrot, onion, two kinds of mushrooms, and the noodles. “Now, we wait a bit. If I add the spinach and napa cabbage now, they’ll go to mush. Five minutes.” He checked that everyone had tea, then took the pot, emptied it into a waste bowl that he pulled from under the table, and made more tea. “Those leaves were exhausted. I think, because of the beef, we should have a nice oolong. yes?”

Everyone agreed that oolong was good; Dean, Cosmo, and Tony had no idea, while Gibbs and Jimmy, thanks to Ducky, knew what oolong was. 

Yokumuri-san checked the carrots, then scooted things around so he could fit the spinach and cabbage in the pan. “There.” He put a mat on the table, then set the pan where everyone could reach it. He also set a bowl in front of each man. “Enjoy.”

Gibbs led the way, taking some of each food and placing it in his bowl. “I’d love it if we could have egg with this.”

Yokumuri-san shook his head. “American eggs aren’t safe to eat raw. A bit in cake batter or cookie dough is fine but dipping sukiyaki in raw egg isn’t safe. Too much egg, not enough heat. It’s a shame.”

Jimmy nodded. “It isn’t. Safe, I mean. The conditions the chickens are kept in spread salmonella into the feed; that gets it right into the egg. Free range eggs are usually safe. Especially if the farmer is holistic and feeds homemade feed. Commercial feed tests show that there’s actually some contamination in the feed.”

Dean eyed Jimmy with some disgust then said, “Ick. And you know this ... how?”

Jimmy, realizing that this really wasn’t table talk, shrugged, “Ducky.”

They returned to their meal and changed the conversation to Remy’s family reunion, discussing the fun they’d had. Jimmy asked Gibbs how his foot was and he admitted that it was still a bit sore but healing quickly, especially as he was staying off it as much as possible.

Ayami returned with an empty tray and scurried around, taking dirty bowls and chopsticks away. She smiled at everyone, nodded to Yokumuri-san, then slipped away again.

Yokumuri-san cleaned up his area and put the cover back on the table, remarking, “It has a metal heat-absorbing shield in it, so don’t worry about the table going up in flames.” He smiled around, then said, “If you’re still hungry after the sushi/sashimi boat and tempura, let Ayami know and I’ll be back.” 

Yet a third server showed up with the sushi boat. This was a three-foot-long replica of a Japanese fishing boat from about the 14th century, covered with bits of sashimi and sushi. 

Tony started to reach for a bit when his phone went off. He eyed the text for a moment then said rather blankly, “Syrup of Ipecac? What the hell?” He tucked his phone away with a shrug. “I do not want to know.”

Gibbs gave him a strange look and said, “What the ...?”

“Abby.” Tony took some sashimi and put it on the tiny plate they’d all been provided with.

The sushi was wonderful; nigirisushi: hand-formed ovals of rice topped with tuna, yellow tail belly, shrimp, octopus, salmon roe and salmon. And makizushi: sheets of nori seaweed covered with rice, then rolled around shrimp, cucumber, lettuce, crab, and other fillings, some covered with lines of different sauces. 

Dean conveyed a piece of sushi to his mouth, frowned, then set it down on his plate again. He deconstructed it using his chopsticks. “Why, I ask, do they leave the tail on the shrimp? It’s nasty. I always get bits between my teeth.” He pulled the offending bit off, dropped it on his plate, and put the nigiri back together.

Gibbs eyed Dean for a moment then said, “If you’re really interested?” Dean nodded while everyone else turned from their food to face Gibbs. “Okay. Back in the early 1900’s, shrimp was hard to keep fresh because of the lack of refrigeration; all they really had was ice. So, it wasn’t served except during certain times of the year and close to where it was caught. In the ’20’s it became easier to ship, but it was still very expensive. So ... certain unethical seafood companies started making canned, precooked shrimp and shipping it inland. Only it wasn’t shrimp. They cut shrimp-shaped plugs out of trash fish and cooked them in broth made from the heads and shells with pink dye in it. They turned up in all sorts of dishes. So people started complaining that they couldn’t tell if it was shrimp or not. There are actually laws on the books in a lot of states that you have to leave the tails on. And heads on fish so you can tell what it is.”

Jimmy nodded. “I’ve heard that story before but it’s still fascinating. Wonder how much profit there really was in that.”

Tony made a face then said, “About 350%. DiNozzo shipping, my grandfather’s trucking company, made a fortune from a subsidiary called Seashore Sea Food Processing Inc.”

Cosmo shook his head. “AJ, man, I’d really like to know how the hell you turned out so well, raised by people like that.”

“Wasn’t raised by them.” Tony poked at a bit of sashimi then ate it. “I was raised by servants, boarding schools, and RIMA. I figured it out with a roommate of mine one time. I’ve actually only seen my father for about twenty-six days. Total ... in my life.”

Jimmy scowled into his tea. “Jackass.”

Tony grinned at him, “Am not.”

Jimmy started to say something then, realizing that Tony was trying to lighten the mood again, said, “Are too, jerk.”

“Bitch.” Tony flicked a grain of rice at Jimmy.

Gibbs capped that by barking, “No food fights. People will think we’re a bunch of Neanderthals.”

They settled back to their food, and Ayami scampered in to remove all the tails quietly, dropping them into a small covered bowl she’d brought with her. 

Gibbs nodded to her, causing her to bow back. “Thank you. They are a bit precious but still.” She giggled a bit, then left.

When the boat was empty, Ayami came back with a young man who nipped the boat off the table and stepped to the door to hand it off to someone else. He returned with a huge tray covered with bite-sized pieces of all sorts of vegetables and shrimp (with the tails off), bite-sized bits of chicken, and some sort of fish cut into strips and threaded onto bamboo skewers. There were also a narrow, deep bowl, a large mixing bowl, a container, and two bottles of beer.

Ayami took the cover off the burner, fiddled under the table for a moment, then lit the burner again. The other server returned with a pot of hot oil, which he put on the burner. He then went to a seat by the window and settled in. 

Ayami opened the container and poured half the contents into the mixing bowl. She opened one bottle of beer and poured it into the bowl, whisking quickly to mix. She then poured it into the deep bowl and repeated the process with the other flour and beer. She then handed the bowl to the assistant, who put it into a refrigerator hidden behind a panel in the wall beside his seat.

She checked the oil by dripping a bit of the batter into it; It crackled and bubbled, so she began making the tempura, dipping the different things into the batter, then carefully putting them into the hot oil. She was careful not to splash the oil or dip her trailing sleeves into it.

The food fried quickly, and Ayami skillfully dipped it out using a brass wire strainer with a bamboo handle. She put the hot food on a wire drainer, happily saying, “First serving. Help yourselves.” Dean, on her left, helped himself then pushed the tray toward the middle of the table so everyone could reach it. It was empty in seconds and returned within Ayami’s easy reach. She continued to fry up this and that, mixing the servings so that there was a little bit of everything so they had a choice. 

Noticing that she was running out of batter, she turned to ask her companion for the other bowl, which she’d already mixed. Unfortunately, she caught her sleeve on the pot of hot oil and splashed some on her arm. She had barely cried out when Tony was on her. “No, hold still.” He grabbed her before she could even move and dragged her away from the pot, sitting her down in his seat. “Gremlin.”

Jimmy was also already moving. He pulled her sleeve away from the burn, noting that it was polyester and had melted. “Not too bad.” He turned to the boy, who was wringing his hands and ordered. “Ice. Water. Towels. Now. Management can wait.”

Ayami was whimpering softly, “Oh! Itai! Ow!”

Jimmy pulled her sleeve back again, then pulled a folding knife from his pocket; flicking it open, he cut the sleeve off her kimono at the shoulder. “Sorry, but it’s melted and ruined anyway.”

“It’s okay.” Ayami tried to knuckle the tears out of her eyes. “I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”

The boy returned with a bowl of ice and water in his hands and several towels over his shoulder. “Here. And Mr. March was in the hall.”

Mr. March took one look at Ayami’s arm and ordered. “Get Dr. Mac. Run!” He glanced at Jimmy, but seemed to recognize him. “Do we need to do anything else?”

Jimmy was examining Ayami’s arm carefully. “I don’t think so. Looks like a lot of first-degree burns. Her sleeve melted, which absorbed a lot of the heat. She’s got a bit of partial-thickness second-degree right on her wrist. The oil got directly on her skin there. I’m going to put cold towels on it to take the heat out.” He carefully draped dry towels over the area then put the cold, wet towels on top of that. “I’d like to have your doctor keep an eye on her for a bit. She looks a bit shocky. Don’t want her fainting. Ayami? Hun? How do you feel?”

Ayami bit her lip then whispered, “Sick. I think I might barf. Oh. And it hurts.”

Everyone else had stayed out of the way and kept looky-lous away. Gibbs actually had to go to the door and send a couple away with a snarled, “Nothing of fuckin’ interest to you. Go the hell away. Return to your seats or leave.”

Dean and Cosmo stood behind him, ready to add muscle if needed. Tony backed Jimmy up, handing him things as needed. Remy stood against the wall, ready to lend aid to either group.

Dr. Mac arrived at a run. “What happened?”

Jimmy gave him a quick rundown, finishing, “I think she’s shocky. I don’t have my kit, so I don’t have a stethoscope or anything.” He backed off, muttering, “I swear I’m never leaving home without at least a minimal kit ... ever.”

Dr. Mac examined Ayami quickly, checking her blood pressure, heart rate, and respiration. “Okay, nasty burn. A bit shocky. But I think everything will heal up nicely. I’d like to get her back to her quarters, get some analgesics into her and some fluids. She mostly needs rest and a bit of supervision for the night. I’ll get her up to the clinic, dress those burns, and get her home.” He nodded to Jimmy. “Thank you for your help.”

Remy stepped forward to help the doctor up, patting Jimmy on the shoulder as he did so. “Good work, man.” 

Dr. Mac gently helped Ayami to her feet. “Well, let’s get you up to the clinic.”

Ayami staggered a bit as she stood up, and everyone realized that she wasn’t going to be able to walk very far. Between the naturally narrow hem of her kimono and the shock, she was very unsteady on her feet.

Tony took care of that easily. “Hold still.” He scooped her up in his arms and maneuvered her out the door. “Let’s go,” he nodded. “I’ll get her up to the clinic; after that, I think you can manage.” He looked around to find a more convenient exit than the front lobby. 

Mr. March, who had stayed out of the way, now jumped into action. “Come this way. We’ll take her up through the freight elevator. It’s closer to the clinic, and big.”

Tony followed him, bracketed by the whole pod, who moved to fill the hallway and keep gawkers from getting in the way.

Mr. March politely but firmly shooed other customers back into their dining rooms, efficiently got Tony into the elevator with Dr. Mac, and sent them on their way.

The rest of the pod stayed in the hall, as there was no need for them to crowd into the elevator. 

Mr. March nodded to them, nearly a bow. “Thank you very much for your quick action. If you’d please return to your room, I’ll see that you have anything you want. I’m sure that Mr. DiNozzo will be back soon.”

Jimmy waited until the others were headed back, then said, “Mr. March. I’d appreciate it if you would let me know how Ayami does.”

“Of course.” Mr. March produced a fancy smart phone, and they exchanged numbers. “There we go.”

It wasn’t long before Tony returned with the good news that Ayami was already feeling a bit better. “Dr. Mac said she’s got good blood pressure. He checked her sugar, and it was a bit low. He called her roommates while I was leaving, and one of them is probably on the way to stay with her right now.”

A new server entered the room. “Hello. My name is Miko. I’ll finish the service.” She bowed gracefully. “Thank you so much for taking care of Ayami. What would you like?”

The group consulted quickly and decided on another round of sushi and more tea.

Miko scurried away to return with the young man who’d served with Ayami. He carried a huge tray covered with sashimi, and Mr. March himself followed with another covered with slices of makizushi. He put it down in the middle of the table, announced, “Your meal is on the house,” and left. 

Tony blinked at that then said, “Boss, maybe ...?”

Gibbs just took a slice of makizushi and dipped it in soy. “No. We’re on vacation. We take it and be glad of it. Eat.”

Everyone dug in and finished the delicious food quickly. Dean offered, “We need to ask some questions around here. Find out if anyone else has had trouble with the locals and just didn’t report it.”

Tony thought about that for a moment, then said, “I think that’s a good idea. Might hang around some of the classes. Chat up a few people.” He poked his chopsticks at Gibbs. “Except you, Jet, you’re lousy at that.”

Gibbs shrugged. “You, Dean, Cosmo, and Remy do the chat-up. Jimmy and I’ll go into town. Jimmy can check on Tim, and I’ll talk to the local LEO’s.”

They finished their meal with tsukemono, Japanese fresh pickles, and tea. 

Gibbs called, “Okanjō o onegaishimasu!”

Mr. Marsh stepped into the doorway and said, “You speak Japanese like a Yakuza. And it’s all on the house. Your entire stay is. You came to investigate an attack on one of our guests. We take that very seriously. The home office would have brought in investigators, only you got here first and your reputation precedes you. Enjoy your stay.” He closed the door and they could hear his soft footsteps going away.

Remy shrugged. “Well, guess he tol’ us. Let’s go.”

.

Chapter 3

The next morning was a bit of a scramble, as Gibbs had expected the uniforms to arrive sometime in the night. He called the main desk and was told that they were being cleaned and pressed.

This didn’t make anyone happy as they all knew a civilian laundry would never get them right. It turned out that one of the supervisors was ex-Army and did the ironing himself. They were just waiting for a “call for” to deliver the bags.

A golf cart pulled up at the front door just as Tony was getting ready to send Dean to look for their things. “Hi. Here’s your laundry. Boy, is Mr. Stevens a picky butt over where to iron a pleat. But, it’s ship-shape and Bristol fashion, or so he said. Here you go.” The driver handed the bags to Remy. “Mr. Owens said to tell you that arrangements are being made for you to interview selected staff tomorrow.”

Remy nodded to the kid, said, “Thanks.” and returned to the cottage. “Y’all! Our stuff is here.” He handed out bags, keeping his in hand. 

It wasn’t long before they were all dressed in correctly ironed A-TAC’s; four in SEAL black, one in MARPAT, and one in EMT’s dark blue. Jimmy eyed the fruit salad on Gibbs’ chest and shook his head. “I don’t understand why you resist accepting a Navy Meritorious Civilian Service Award.”

Gibbs actually took a second to think about it. “I got those for team efforts. Jen and Leon both ... don’t get it. If they’re not going to award one to Tony and Tim, I shouldn’t get one either. It’s all politics, and I don’t do politics.”

Jimmy nodded. “I see. And I get it.”

Remy nodded. “Did wonder about that. AJ’s got ‘em all in his desk.”

Gibbs shrugged. “And a couple of others.”

Jimmy pointed. “What’s that one?”

“Iraq Campaign. Means I served there. All that rank and the one below are places I’ve served.” Gibbs fingered one. “Columbia.”

Jimmy shook his head. “Is it weird that I know what all the others are?”

Dean laughed while Cosmo said, “Not really. Look who you room with. Seriously, dude, lighten up. That Caduceus earns you more props than you think.” 

Gibbs sighed. “And I just thought of a damn problem. We can’t ride motors; we’ll be filthy by the time we reach town.”

Tony nodded. “You’re right. I’ll just request something from the retreat. Corporate said, ‘all possible consideration’.” He dialed his phone and requested two cars.

It wasn’t long before the cars showed up; cheerful young things hopped out and hurried over to hand the waiting men the keys. “Here you go. Have a nice day.” And they all got into a golf cart that had followed the cars and buzzed away on some other business.

They checked at the Center, found that breakfast wasn’t going to start at any restaurant for another hour, and left for town. The girl at the desk explained that most of the clients either ate breakfast in their quarters or ate after some sort of exercise.

Tony grumbled, “But I’m hungry now. And we really do need to work out. We’ve slacked off a bit. Vacation is a really good excuse.”

The girl chirped. “Oh, I do understand, but you are signed up for classes ... starting ... tomorrow I see. Well ... if I can do anything else for you, just let me know. Have a nice day.”

They turned to leave, Gibbs mumbling, “How the hell can she be so damn cheerful this early in the fuckin’ morning?”

She overheard and answered, “Coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. See? Bitch plus coffee equals angel. Or at least human.”

Gibbs laughed. “I haven’t had enough. Marine minus coffee equals horse’s ass.”

They left, agreeing that breakfast at Mom’s sounded like a good idea. Unfortunately, they found that Mom’s was definitely a lunch and dinner place; they didn’t open until 1130. 

Since they were in two cars, with Jimmy in the back seat of one car and Cosmo in the back of the other, Jimmy suggested that one of them try to find something on their smart phones. Everyone liked that idea, so they both looked, consulted with each other, then came up with The Rocket on 6th St. 

They did their usual recon of the place and came up good. The facility was clean and didn’t have any odd smells, the alley behind it was clean, and a quick, sneaky look into the kitchen proved that it, too, was clean. 

They entered and were just a bit surprised that the place was nearly empty. Two booths and a table were occupied by sleepy men and women who obviously just wanted food.

They took the long central table, which seated ten, and waited for someone to come. They didn’t have to wait long until a young man with a tired expression came out of the back. “Coffee? Menus and water.” 

Everyone turned their cups up to show that they wanted coffee. “Great. Be right back.” he walked off, clearly not in any hurry, to get the coffee pot and menus. He filled their cups, gave them menus, then went around the room, filling cups and speaking to the other customers.

Gibbs took a healthy gulp of coffee, made a face and spit it back into the cup. “It’s fucking scorched.” Everyone else took a very careful sip and found that, as usual, Gibbs understated the facts. The coffee was burned sludge. They pushed their cups away.

It didn’t take them long to realize that the menu was one of those numbered things where you took a ‘number two’ or whatever. It was obvious that there were no substitutions as it was written in bold, red letters at the bottom of the single page.

The boy returned, eyed the cups then said, “Want me to take that away?”

Tony nodded. “Please.”

The boy, whose name they would never know, as he didn’t have a badge, took the cups away. He returned to take their order. “Sorry about the wait. I’m alone and I’m running the register as well as everything else. So ... what’ll ya have?”

They all decided on a number seven, also called the Farmer’s Special, which consisted of toast, three eggs, a slice of ham, sausage links, and hash brown potatoes. 

The cook seemed to be a fan of butter, or bacon fat, as the plates arrived swimming in grease. The potatoes were scorched, and the ham was stone-cold; the sausage was obviously taken from some sort of warmer, as it was dried out. The toast was pale and limp, over-buttered, and tired. Gibbs poked his over-easy eggs and shook his head. “Well, I’ve had worse, but I don’t remember when.”

Jimmy pulled a handful of napkins out of the holder and used them to blot most of the grease off his plate, then dumped the potatoes onto them. He wadded the whole mess up and put it in the nearby bus cart. “This is ... bad.”

“Yeah, but I’m hungry and I’m not waitin’ ’til noon for food.” Remy shoveled eggs into his mouth, grimacing as his scramble turned out to be tough and dry.

Dean and Cosmo both had ordered sunny-side-up eggs, but they were scorched around the edges and hard. Everyone had something wrong with their food.

They ate quickly, then called the server over for their check. They gave him a tip, because it wasn’t his fault the food was crap, paid the bill, and started out the door. Tony, ever the smart ass, stuck his head in the kitchen door and barked, “Learn to fuckin’ cook, man. That Charlie Foxtrot ... I had better in fuckin’ basic. And that was crappy fuckin’ K-rations.” The cook just snarled at him and went back to ruining eggs.

Gibbs shook his head. “That was more than I’m willing to deal with. Especially without coffee.”

Cosmo sighed, “Me neither. But there’s coffee right next to Mom’s.”

Jimmy scowled. “The hospital coffee is ... hospital coffee.”

Dean frowned. “We’ll want to split up again. So ... AJ?”

Tony and Gibbs consulted for a moment then Gibbs said, “Cos, go with Jimmy to the hospital. If Tim’s ready to discharge, bring him back to the station. The rest of us will stay there and start the investigation. But ... we’re all gettin’ coffee first.”

They invaded the Java Pot in a grumpy clutch, added themselves to the line, and tried to be patient. Dean moaned and hissed, “I need the damn head. Like ... now.”

The barista overheard, smiled a bit then pointed. “Right there. Go ahead and break line, I’m sure your friends will hold your place.”

But it was soon plain that Dean was in distress. Jimmy snarled, “Now I know why they call it the fuckin’ Rocket. I’ll be back in a sec.” He hurried out to his car and got his bag. He came back in, tapped on the restroom door then handed something in. “Take that. Yell if it doesn’t work in five minutes.”

Someone remarked, “No one had the kindness to warn the strangers about The Rocket? Ouch.” 

Gibbs snarled wordlessly but kept unkind remarks to himself. He had recently learned to curb his nastier comments; Tony wasn’t shy about taking someone on the mats when he was displeased. Even Gibbs got the treatment. Tony admitted he had to work harder with Gibbs than anyone except Remy, but he still got his point across.

The barista, Peggyann, said gently, “He gonna be okay? What can I get you?”

“He’ll be fine. Coffee.” 

Gibbs was prepared to fight for just plain coffee but Peggyann surprised him.

“Sure thing. You FBI? I heard someone was coming to help with the investigation into who hurt that tourist ... McGee, or something. You them?”

Cosmo nudged Gibbs along. “Yeah. Just plain coffee for him. I’ll have an Americano double shot with vanilla.” Gibbs obediently moved along, accepting a cup from Ben, who was next in line. He was pointed to a rank of pressure pots and told to help himself.

Tony was next up and sourly said, “Double/double espresso trenta.” Cosmo edged away from him eyeing him cautiously.

This was not a good sign. Tony usually had an Americano Grande or Venti with two shots of hazelnut flavoring and cream and sugar. This kept him grounded in the knowledge that he was on friendly ground. The fact that he was ordering a 30 oz quadruple-strength espresso, plain, meant that he felt that he was in enemy territory. 

Gibbs even eyed him. The really dangerous thing about Tony was, he was a brooder. Most times, he could be teased, cajoled, or jollied out of a bad mood. But, when he had time to brood over it, he became tense, sullen, and dangerous. Most people would never notice, because he was good at covering it—best undercover agent Gibbs had ever seen—but if you knew what to look for, the signs were unmistakable. A change in coffees was a screamed warning. 

“AJ,” Remy put his arm over Tony’s shoulders. “Ease off.”

“I ... fuck.” Tony took his coffee and swallowed a gulp, much to the barista’s dismay.

“Sir! Be careful! You’ll burn your mouth!” She hurried to offer a cup of ice water.

Tony sighed and smiled, a false, brittle thing, then said, “I didn’t burn myself. Asbestos mouth.”

“Oh, okay. Just ... don’t scare me like that.” She smiled, fluttered around with this and that, then moved on to Remy.

They finally made their way through the line and settled in a seating area that included two loveseats and four wingback chairs. Dean joined them with a cup of green tea with ginger. “Man, I’d rather eat at Micky D’s than that place.”

Tony agreed. They really did make a habit of not eating fast food if they could get out of it, but after that disaster, they were either eating at the center or anywhere else.

It didn’t take them long to finish their coffee and order another for the road, although in the case of Tony, Dean, Cosmo, and Gibbs, “for the road” was a short walk to the New Courthouse complex. 

Remy nodded to Jimmy. “Want to drive or me?”

“You. I need to start Tim’s release paperwork.”

Remy frowned. “You need to do something? I figured it would be his local doc.”

“He has to sign off on the release. I want a copy of his charts, his med sheet, and recommendations on continuing treatment.” Jimmy tapped at his phone as he spoke, inputting the request to the records office. 

Remy easily found a parking spot. “It’s a bit early.”

Jimmy snorted. “Not that early. Look.” He pointed out Penny and Sara, who were walking toward the door. 

They hurried and caught up with Penny, who was moving a bit slower than Sara. Remy offered Penny his arm, which she took, although she remarked, with some asperity, “I really don’t need this.”

Remy replied, “Then I thank you for humoring this ol’ Southern boy.”

Jimmy joined Sara. “I’ll be taking Tim with me, unless you’ve got a better idea.”

Sara snorted. “You really think Tim’ll let us take him back to Namaste and coddle him?”

“Well ... no. Most likely not. But I’ll be right there to make sure that he doesn’t get too energetic.”

Penny shook her head. “That boy. Love him to pieces, but he’s got the common sense of a Mayfly. You be sure to call us when you get back to Namaste tonight. We’ll go out for supper, my treat.”

Remy shrugged. “Fine. All of us?”

Sara nodded. “Yes. We really want to meet all of you.” She grinned. “Daddy nearly had a spaz ... yelled about how Tim couldn’t possibly have made it through SEAL ... something. Mini- whatever?”

Jimmy snorted. “He and I both made it through modified SEAL re-training. We could make it though the real thing now. AJ and Jet made sure of that.”

Sara blinked. “Really?”

Remy nodded. “They could. We have classes starting tomorrow, one of the requirements of us staying at Namaste. We’ll be having a ruck run, or I miss my guess. AJ’s been antsy for the last couple of days.”

Jimmy agreed adding, “AJ runs like it’s a religion, and he’s been missing it.” He groaned. “Oh, man, he’s gonna want us to make at least six miles. And Tim’ll want to come along.”

Penny frowned, then commented, “I take it that that is not a good idea?”

“No. Really not. But he’s gonna want to go so ... no pack, extra hydration, and drop out when I say. AJ and Jet will back me up on that.” Jimmy shook his head. “Man is pig-stubborn.”

Remy nodded. “Dat he is. But that’s one of the things that makes him so good at his job.”

“True, that,” Jimmy nodded. He paused to wait for the automatic door opener to do its job. “Sara.”

Sara nodded, went in first, and waited for Jimmy, Remy, and Penny to join her at the information desk. Jimmy spoke with the elderly lady there. It didn’t take her long to find out that Tim was still in the same room, the doctor was on rounds, and they could go right up. She ended with, “Have a lovely day, dears,” then returned to her knitting.

Remy led the way, subconsciously keeping himself between the ladies and any threat. Jimmy brought up the rear, eyes behind.

Penny noticed, but didn’t say anything. Sara was oblivious. 

Tim greeted them like, as Remy said, the coming of spring. He was just glad to see someone beside the staff. He’d been awakened every two hours and asked “damn stupid” questions. He was bleary-eyed, cranky, and hungry, and just wanted out.

Sara took the job of gathering Tim’s things, most of which were in the small locker on one wall. 

Jimmy took vitals, just for his own peace of mind. He went about the job matter-of-factly, taking pulse, blood pressure, and temp, finally checking pupil reactivity, which made Tim grumble, “Oh, man, flashy light. Not good.”

Jimmy snorted at that. “No one seems to like that. But it’s necessary.”

Tim said, “Bright light, headache? Not a good combination.”

Penny interjected, “Timothy. Just bear with it. We want you out as much as you want out.”

Remy, who had been watching Sara sort Tim’s things, demanded, “Sidearm? Where the hell is your damn sidearm?”

Penny answered, “We deemed it unnecessary. Really, who needs a gun at a health spa?”

Remy snarked back, “Seems t’me that Digimon did.” He glowered at Tim. “You ever go somewhere without it again, an’ I’m tellin’ AJ. Then I’m beatin’ what he leaves. We clear?”

Tim nodded. “We are. And I’m not.” Penny opened her mouth to say something, but Tim shut her down. “Penny, we’re not discussing this, arguing about it, or anything. I’m carrying. End of discussion. I acquiesced to your demands and got the shit beaten out of myself. I’m not catering to your neo-hippy libtard refusal to see facts. Done.” 

Penny, while she hated guns, knew when to cut her losses. Tim had that look that she’d learned meant he wasn’t doing what she wanted, wasn’t arguing about it, and was going to get mean if she didn’t leave it alone. “Well, if you feel that strongly about it. Fine.”

Sara made a disgusted sound and handed Remy all Tim’s clothing. “Here. This is just ... ick.”

Remy shook his head. “You got bloody stuff here. I’m callin’ AJ an’ gettin’ you something clean. A-TACs and sidearm.” He fumbled with the wad of bloody cloth. “And it’s cut all to hell.”

Tim sighed; his head was throbbing again. “Good. Fine. Thanks.” He rolled his eyes to Jimmy. “Jimmy?”

“Have you out of here in thirty minutes. Unless you want to wait for clean clothing.”

Tim thought for a second. “I wonder why the cops didn’t take my clothing into evidence? Sloppy.”

Remy eyed the near rags then produced his ruck, which none of the pod usually went anywhere without. “I got a pair of pants and a shirt. Be big an’ way too long, but they’re clean.”

Tim nodded. “Thanks. I wonder where the hell my ruck is. I didn’t bring it with me to town, so it should be at Namaste. In our cottage somewhere.”

Penny just hauled her phone out of her purse and made a call. While she was waiting for it to ring, she said, “I’ll have someone bring it here. It will only take about twenty, thirty minutes. We’ll be doing paperwork that long.” She tipped her head, then said, “Hello. Penny Langston here. My grandson needs clean clothing. There’s a ... rucksack thing in his room somewhere. Find it and bring it here.” She listened a moment then said, “Yes, thank you.”

Jimmy met Dr. Odell at the door. “Hey. Just coming to look for you. He’s ready to go. I’ll do the paperwork and whatnot. We’re waiting for clothing. And can I get some sort of sterile container to put his bloody things in? Evidence. Might be compromised by now, but there’s a chance.”

Dr. Odell blinked, then said, “No one told us to ... to do whatever it is you do with evidence. We just cut what we needed to cut, then one of the nurses undressed Mr. McGee and put his things in the locker. I’m sorry.”

Remy poked his head out the door. “Bag?”

“On its way.”

It wasn’t long before a candy striper showed up with a bag. “I got one from the lab. It’s what they send dry samples in. It’s sterile.” She handed the bag over with a smile.

Remy took it with a soft, “Tank ‘e kindly, ma’am.” She dimpled, then trotted away. Remy went back into the room and bagged everything. 

Tim grumbled, “I really liked that pair of pants. And the boots.”

Jimmy scowled in thought, then said, “Paperwork is on the way. I’m callin’ Jet.” He winced, “He’s gonna go mental.”

.

Gibbs answered his phone with a grunt. He listened for a few seconds, then said, “Bag it, get a messenger, and send it all to Abby. I wouldn’t trust this lab with a ... anything.” He hung up then carefully put his phone on the conference table. 

Dean eyed him for a moment, then asked cautiously, “What’s up?”

“No one bagged Tim’s clothing at the hospital. If there’s any evidence left on them, it’s inadmissible. I’m gonna go talk to the sheriff.” He got up, knocking his chair back with his legs. 

At first there was an indistinct murmur from the sheriff’s office, then a loud, “What? Are you shittin’ me?” Then Sheriff Madigan charged out of his office and demanded. “Who the hell was first contact with McGee?” 

A young officer hesitantly held up a hand. “I was. I told the ER doc to bag everything and send it over. He sorta brushed me off, but I figured he knew his business. I came back here to write up my report, then had to go back out and start interviews. I guess I forgot to check back.”

Sheriff Madigan took a deep breath then yelled, “You guess? You guess you forgot? How about I forget to put you on the schedule for a week? Yeah? How about that?”

The young officer gave the sheriff a stricken look. “They didn’t send it over? What ... I mean...” he trailed off helplessly.

“Some damn jackwad numbnuts stuck them in the patient’s locker. Unbagged.” Sheriff Madigan rubbed his face. “You’re on report. Get out in the garage and clean the cruisers. Scat.” The officer jumped up and hurried out. “Damn it. Boy hasn’t got two brain cells to rub together. Dumb as a box of rocks. He’s not gonna pass his 90.” The sheriff went back into his office, shutting the door very carefully.

Gibbs gave the other officer in the room a fish-eye, then went back into the conference room to see what was next. “Fuckin’ TARFUN Charlie Foxtrot. Damn it!” He flopped down in a chair. “I swear, AJ, you get on me for not wantin’ to trust LEOs, and this is the kind of SNAFU we get to deal with?”

Tony held up his hands in an ‘I surrender’ gesture. “Yeah. Okay. Officially pissed off now.”

Dean caught Cosmo’s eye and jerked his head. Cosmo got up and announced, “Not enough caffeine; I’m headin’ back to the Java Pot. Who wants?”

Gibbs just fished a few bills out of his pocket and passed them over. “None of that fancy crap.”

Tony also handed over some money. “Same as earlier.”

Dean sighed. “Man. AJ, we got to start the interviews. Do not scare the civilians.”

“Fuck you.” Tony eyed him for a minute then grinned, “Or not.”

Dean brightened. “Not lettin’ you anywhere near my ass. I like girls, thankyousomuch.”

But now, Tony was in a much better mood. “Well, fine. But no one goes anywhere alone. Or unarmed. I wonder why Tim didn’t just shoot the bastard.”

“Because Penny convinced ... well, whined until I gave up and didn’t carry.”

They turned to see Tim in the door, flanked by Remy and Jimmy. 

Tony yelped, “Timmy!” then jumped up to pull out a chair. “Sit down.”

Tim, pale-faced and shaky, did, putting his computer bag on the table. “Penny and Sara went back to Namaste. They have a class. Penny’s going to try to pump the staff. Good luck with that. She’s as subtle as a curse in church. The guy who brought my clothing, brought my computer bag as well.” He grinned, produced his keys, which had the cutter for the seals he habitually put on his bag, and examined the seal. “Hummm. Someone tampered with this. Looks like ... they tried to cut it with a knife or scissors.”

Jimmy, meanwhile, took Dean aside. “Can you get him something to eat and some coffee?”

Dean nodded. “I’ll come up with something. Micky D’s? That Rocket place is ptomaine on a plate.”

Jimmy glanced around. “I’d like something too. Whatever you bring is better than the Rocket. I couldn’t eat most of mine.”

Everyone agreed that they wanted something as the food at the Rocket hadn’t sat well with any of them. So Remy and Cosmo headed off to find a McDonalds and get something.

Tim eyed the seals again, then said, “AJ, what do you make of this?”

Tony examined the seals and agreed with Tim. “Looks like scissors to me. Call Penny or Sara and ask them if they tried to cut it. And ask Penny if she knows any herbal remedy for indigestion caused by greasy burned food.”

Tim eyed everyone and realized that they all looked a bit queasy. “Okay.” He found his phone; someone had gone through his pockets and gotten all his pocket stuff and put it in his new pants, but it wasn’t in the right pockets, so he couldn’t find anything. He grumbled, then stood up, emptied all his pockets, and rearranged himself.

Jimmy grimaced, “I’m sorry. I found all your stuff ...” he grinned at a frowning Gibbs. “I wore gloves, damn it, but everything is contaminated beyond usefulness, so don’t fuckin’ jump my ass. Anyway, I just stuffed it where it fit.”

“Well, thanks. None of my stuff has any useful evidence on it. My clothing might have, but I doubt it after the hospital got done cutting it into shreds, then dumping it on the floor for everyone to walk on. And it’s not like it was really necessary. I’m skinned all to hell, but that truck had a cowcatcher on it. It was a Dodge. And that’s all I can tell you about it. I would recognize the first guy and might recognize the driver. So.” He finished rearranging his stuff and called Penny.

Penny answered on the second ring. Tim put it on speaker, then started out by asking, “Penny, did either you or Sara try to cut the seal off my computer bag? And what’s good for indigestion caused by grease?”

Penny replied at once. “For the indigestion, green tea with ginger and lemon. Just grate some ginger root into the leaves then infuse, squeeze lemon juice into that. Don’t use that crap in a plastic squeeze bottle. As to your bag, I didn’t. Let me ask Sara.” They heard her walking then she said, “Sara? Did you try to cut the seal off Timmy’s bag?”

Sara answered. “Yeah, my battery flaked on me, so I was going to use Tim’s computer to finish my homework. He’s got that thing locked up tighter than Fort Knox. What’s with that?”

Tim answered that. “I keep it fuckin’ locked unless I’m actually using it because everyone and their damn dog seems to think it’s fair game. I get stuff deleted, searches for porn, and all sorts of shit. If you’d get a new battery every six years or so, you wouldn’t have that problem. And unplug it during lightning storms. Hands off my stuff.” 

“Well, gee, excuse me for living.” Sara sounded huffy, which told Tim that she knew she was in the wrong. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just fuckin’ hurt still. I’m getting ready to set up and I just wanted that tea recipe and to make sure it was you instead of someone in the center messing around where they shouldn’t. Thanks, Penny. Bye.” He hung up before Sara could start another of those pissy arguments she seemed to love. He didn’t know, or care, that Penny gave Sara a lecture on keeping her hands off his property and not causing unnecessary friction with him. Her I’m-so-disappointed-in-you tone made Sara feel about an inch tall.

Tim returned to work, clipping off the seal and getting his equipment out of the bag. “I need a plug-in.” He started to get up, but Dean stopped him. 

“I got it. You need more than one thing plugged in?” Dean got down on the floor and plugged the massive power bar in. He scrambled out from under the side table, then put the power bar down on it. “Maybe you should set up here. No cords stretched all over for blind idiots to trip over.”

Tim got up and moved, saying, “Right. See if you can’t find me a printer. I know we’re gonna want to print out stuff, and I don’t see us wanting to run all over the station to find where it came out at.”

Gibbs got up; this he could do. “I’ll go see what I can find.”

“Thanks. I’ll get to work on Identi-kit pictures as soon as I get set up.” Tim rubbed his forehead; his head was beginning to throb again.

Jimmy sighed, he was going to have to get Tim to take a break, and he wasn’t looking forward to the argument.

Tim heard and said, “As soon as I do the Identi-kit, I’m laying down for a while. Maybe get some food. And meds. My head is killing me.”

“Okay, that’s good. Remy and Cos should be back soon. Really, how long can it take to get McDonald’s?”

Remy’s voice cheerfully informed them, “Not that long. So ... let me see. I got four of anything I thought we’d all like. McGriddles. Sausage, sausage and egg, bacon and egg, and I got the girl to make up some with just bacon. And biscuit things. Sausage, cheese, and egg. And steak and egg. No cheese. And hashbrowns, coffee.” He put all that out on the center table.

Then Cosmo announced, “And I got the best. Hot pancakes with scrambled eggs, sausage, or bacon, southern-style chicken and biscuits, and breakfast burritos. And none of that breakfast parfait shit or oatmeal, although they tried to sell it like it was special.” He made a face. “Seriously ... a cup of yoghurt layered with granola and a teaspoon of fruit. Who do they think they’re kidding?”

They all dug in. Tim grabbed a plate of pancakes and sausage, a breakfast burrito, and some hashbrowns. A cup of coffee disappeared into his mouth in two gulps. “Thanks.” That was the last word anyone heard from him until he was finished eating, then he just said, “If you’ve eaten all the sausage/egg biscuits, someone’s gettin’ hurt.” Tony just slid one his way.

Gibbs returned in the middle of this, grabbed himself a plate, piling a steak-and-egg biscuit and a bacon-and-egg McGriddle on top. “Thanks.” He tossed a bill onto the table and ordered, “Collection time.” Everyone dropped money in the pile.

They settled in to reread the reports, make notes, and decide who they wanted to re-interview. Gibbs and Tony would do that; the SEALs weren’t qualified, nor was Jimmy. They would stay at the station with Tim and work on things from that end.

There was a tap on the door frame, and a young rookie officer stuck her head in and said, “I heard that you all ate at the Rocket. Damn jerks in the main office didn’t warn you. I got some fresh mint here. Put it in your tea. It’s good for upset stomachs and gas.” She walked in and put the sprigs of mint on the table, then she grimaced, “Sorry about your friend.” She left with a tapping of heels on the hardwood floors.

Tony grumbled. “Someone needs to go get things to make that tea, I feel like shit.” He burped loudly, “Man ... sucks to be me.”

Gibbs hiked his butt-cheek and farted. “Fuck. Someone go get that tea.”

Jimmy shook his head. “Where in the hell are we supposed to get green tea and ginger anyway?”

Dean sighed, dropped the report he was glaring at, and announced, “It’s all crap. Great for small-town America, but useless to us. I’ll go to the grocery store, I’m sure they have green tea bags and ginger. We’ll just slice it thin and ... we need a pot?”

“No. We can just put it all in mugs. I’ll take the mint and wash it.” Jimmy got up and picked up the sprigs of mint. He and Dean left together.

Jimmy returned with the mint in a paper to-go cup and put it back on the table. “There. The Desk Sergeant said that the best store for what we want is a health food store just down that side street.”

Dean nodded. “Wanna come with?”

Jimmy started to say something but Gibbs barked, “Doesn’t make a damn bit a’ difference whether he does or not. No one goes anywhere alone.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, but I figured it was a bit more polite to ask. CoC and all that.”

Gibbs grunted, belched then grumbled, “Well, what the hell are you waitin’ for?”

Jimmy crowded Dean out the door, mumbling, “Cranky much? Must really have indigestion.”

Dean asked, “And why aren’t we taking ... Pepto or something?”

“Alka-seltzer gives Tony headaches, Pepto is just gross and ... well, there’s a list of reasons why we really shouldn’t take OTC stuff. You tried that Pepcid and it gave you a rash.” Jimmy poked Dean in the shoulder. “Natural is sometimes better. Especially in this case, where we’d be buying out a pharmacy and still not be sure it’d work. The tea will, and everyone likes it.”

“Okay, okay.” Dean poked Jimmy back. “No need to get violent.”

They trotted out the door, laughing, never noticing that they were in step. 

It didn’t take them long to find the health food store, which was unimaginatively named Purdysburg Health Food. It was a neat, clean, modern place; the big front windows let in plenty of light, and it looked more like a small grocery store than anything else.

Dean went one way, while Jimmy went the other. Dean called over, “What kind of green tea? There’s a bajillion of ‘em.”

Jimmy frowned at the tag that said “young ginger shoots;” he wasn’t sure this was what he wanted. “No idea. Maybe we should ask for help?”

Dean nodded as he fingered a gold bag somewhat like a coffee bag. “Might not be a bad idea.”

The clerk had been sitting in the back behind the glass-fronted counter; he now got up and walked over to Dean. “I’d be happy to help.”

Dean explained what they wanted and why. “Okay. That’s not a problem. A good green tea that will stand up to ginger and mint. Mmmm.” he eyed the bags and boxes for a moment. “This one. It’s really good. If you’re careful about water temp, it won’t taste like grass. That’s the trick: water just at the simmer, and a long brew. My advice is to get a press pot, put everything in it, and let it steep for right at five minutes. Then add sugar ... if you want it.” While he was speaking, he bustled around, getting a finger of ginger, a bag of the appropriate tea, and a press pot. 

Dean eyed the pot. “You got a bigger one? There’s six of us ... no, seven. Tim will drink with us just because.”

While the clerk, who gloried in the name of Sunshine, got what they needed, Dean asked, “You hear about the guy who got run over?”

“I did. It’s just awful. There’s a group that’s trying to ... take over the local bad element. Think they’re some sort of Mafia or something. It’s not going over very well with anyone. I know the cops know about it, but ... they’re pulling a Fudge and sticking their heads in the sand. Ostrich behavior isn’t helping anyone. Now ...” He started ringing them up. “I put in a jar of local honey and some raw sugar.”

Dean watched a bit, then prodded Sunshine gently. “So this bunch wants to take over the local gangs and ... do what?”

“No idea whatsoever. My best friend is ... not a bad guy, but always involved in some sort of get-rich-quick thing. Gets himself into trouble because of it. He hears stuff. If you like I can hook you up ...” he flushed. “I mean put you in contact. Not that ...”

Jimmy kindly told him, “Best you just shut up now.” He patted Sunshine on the shoulder. “Believe me, it’s just better.”

Sunshine smiled slightly, told them what they owed and wrote a number on a scrap of paper. “Here. I don’t know if it would be better if I called him ... or just let you. What do you want me to do?”

Dean said. “I’m callin’ Jet. He’ll know what’s best.”

Gibbs listened to Dean’s explanation, thought, then said, “Tell Sunshine that AJ and Remy will be there in ...” Tony held up five fingers. “Five. Bring the stuff back here.”

Dean hung up, told Sunshine that someone would be there in five minutes and to call his buddy, get him to the shop. He finished by explaining, “He’ll be more comfortable here. Tell him he’s not in any trouble, we’re just looking for information.”

Sunshine nodded. “Okay. Frank will feel better here. And I’ll make some tea. If you all have upset stomachs, the guy who’s coming will too.”

Jimmy nodded. “No one told us not to eat at the Rocket.”

Sunshine moaned dramatically. “Oh, man. Ugh. It looks so nice ... and there’s a certain element who, I swear, have goat in their ancestry, who eat there all the time. That’s the only reason they’re still in business.” He fiddled around mumbling to himself. 

Dean took the opportunity to bid him good-bye, jerked his head at Jimmy, and headed for the door. Jimmy said good-bye too and followed Dean. They met Tony and Remy at the door.

As they passed, Dean said, “He’s callin’ his buddy now.”

Tony just nodded.

Sunshine looked up and called, “I made you some tea; come drink it while it’s warm. I’ll call Frank while it’s brewing.” He dialed his phone. “I can’t believe no one warned you about the Rocket. Bet it was some sort of hazing thing.” He turned a bit. “Frank! How’z it? Look. There’s some guys here about that Fed that got beat up. They want to talk to you but not at the station. They’re here in the shop. Come over?” He listened for a moment, then said, “Okay. I’ll let them know.” He turned back to Tony and Remy. “He said he’d be okay with coming here. He’ll be here in ten minutes or so.”

Tony lounged against the wall by the register, with Remy by his side. Sunshine gave them both a cup of tea and took one for himself. He sipped, then sighed. “Yum. I added honey to the whole pot. I hope you don’t mind.”

Remy shrugged. “Naw, ’s all good. My belly’s already settlin’.”

Tony just sipped the tea and scowled at the floor. He was really having trouble with this whole thing. All he wanted to do was find the men who’d hurt Tim, shove them into a hurt locker, then weld the door shut.

The door opened and a scroungy-looking young man stumbled in. He was either hung over or drunk already. It didn’t make any difference to Tony; the smell was enough to put him off the dirtbag before he even opened his mouth.

Sunshine just shook his head, a disappointed look on his face. “Frank. Really.” He clattered around a bit, then handed his friend a steaming mug. “Drink that and try to be civil, for heaven’s sake.”

Frank took the mug with an indistinct mumble, swallowed half of it, then said, “Okay, okay. I’m hung over. Don’t rub it in. Now ... who wants to know what?”

Tony introduced himself, but didn’t offer his hand. “Special Agent Lt. Cmdr. Anthony DiNozzo. You can call me Lt. Cmdr. DiNozzo. I’d like to know what you can tell us about the attack on Special Agent McGee.”

“Who?” Frank looked blank.

Sunshine sighed. “That’s the man that Billy what’s-his-face beat up.”

Tony snarled. “If you knew his name why didn’t you tell us?”

Frank shook his head. “We don’t know any of them. That’s just ... local for that whole bunch. They’re foreigners, rode in about ... six months ago. they’re makin’ a big push to take over everything dirty in the area. Won’t work, but they’re tryin’ and gettin’ rough about it. We all just wish they’d go the fuck away.”

Remy nodded. “You know where they hang?”

“No. No one knows for sure. Somewhere in the Savannah National Forest Park. Rangers might would be better able to tell you more about that. Then again, maybe not. Just ... get ‘em the fuck out of our town. They’re tryin’ to move in on the girls ... and not the prosties; the good girls. They scared Helen Adams half out of her wits last week. She won’t even leave her house after dark now.” He rubbed his face. “I’m ... not a good person. But they’re real bad news.”

Tony looked grim. “You don’t know bad news. They fucked with the wrong guy. You got a description of any of them? A real name? License plate on any vehicle?”

Frank shrugged. “One of the lieutenants is a white guy about thirty, six feet, one-sixty-five or so, dirty blond hair, brown eyes, no tats or scars that you can see. Twitchy fucker, likely a tweaker. He’s been inside; keeps the collar of his shirt buttoned but rolls his sleeves up. Another’s a black guy, five ten, one-fortyish, high yaller, hazel eyes, broken eyebrow on the left side. Tat on his neck of a fish. Run as a salt-’n’-pepper. Those are the only two I can describe. I think the white guy might have been the driver. Couldn’t tell you about the truck as I wasn’t there and that bunch has several trucks and cars. And that’s all I know. I can ask around a bit.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s about fifteen or so in the group, and they don’t like snoopy people.”

Tony thought about that for a moment, then said, “Let’s hold off on that for a bit. Do not get yourself hurt. Drop the word that we’re not after anyone except the people who hurt McGee. All we want is to talk to witnesses. Ok?”

“Sure. I can do that. But ... what’s in it for me? I mean, a guy’s got to live ... right? And I’m between jobs again.” He looked miserable, stubbing his broken shoe toe into the floor.

Tony stuck his hand into his pocket, pulled out a money clip and peeled off a couple of bills. “Here. For your time. You come up with anything good, and there’s a bit more. But ... Like I said. Don’t get yourself hurt.”

Frank nodded, stuffing the bills into a pocket without counting them. “Thanks. I’m gonna get some Micky D, then I’ll ask around a bit. I’m not going anywhere near the Pool Que; they hang out there, and the bartender is on their side ... or he’s really scared of them. Not that I blame him. I’m gone. Thanks, Sunshine.” He staggered toward the door, sniffing and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

Sunshine poured everyone more tea while he explained, “We went to school together. Around here, that means same classes and everything, K through senior year. We’ve known each other since we were about eight or so. He’s a good guy. Just ... never seems to quite click ... if you know what I mean. And ... I might know a couple of other people who’ll talk to you. I’ll call around. But they won’t come to the station.”

Tony nodded. He was well aware of the way informants behaved. “That’s okay. Just name a safe, neutral meeting place. Warn them that we’re not going anywhere alone. Gibbs ... that’s our boss ... he’d have us on report so fast his pen would smoke.”

Sunshine shrugged. “I don’t blame him. Some guy’s just goin’ about his business and some redneck tries to beat him up, and when he gets his ass kicked, runs a guy over with a pickup? Yeah, I’d have you all traveling in pairs, too.”

Remy flinched a bit, then said, “Phone.” he pulled it out of his pocked and said, “Devereaux.” He listened then said, “No, we’re done. Be there in five.” He hung up, then told Tony. “AJ, that was Gibbs. He called me in case you were with an informant. He wants us back ASAP.”

Tony nodded, “Okay. Sunshine, you have my number.” Sunshine nodded. “Okay. Remy, let’s put wheels under this bitch.”

.

Chapter 4

They jogged back to the station, causing a stir amongst the ladies of the town. One woman was heard to tell her sister, “I know I’m married; and happily, too. But I sure wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eatin’ crackers. Either of ‘em.” Tony and Remy heard the giggling, but dismissed it.

Gibbs was waiting for them with more tea. He handed it over, then sipped his own. “Bleh. I hate tea. But I’ll admit that it’s working. So ... anything?”

Tony frowned. “Some outsiders are trying to move in on the area. No one’s sure who they are or where they’re from. Got some ears out. It’ll take a bit. What do you have?”

Gibbs shrugged. “Tim went over everything with me. He’s working on a sketch of the two he got a decent look at. Not expectin’ much. Kinda hard to worry about eye color and that shit when you’re beatin’ the crap out of someone. He gave better than he got until they ran him down.” He managed to look pleased without being smug. “Bet they wish they’d never messed with him.”

Tim came into the room from somewhere. “Well, their printer is an antique. We’ll have to come up with something a bit better. Somehow.”

Dean offered, “Well, Cos and I could go to Wally-world and see what they’ve got. If we get a halfway decent one, we ought to leave it ... sort of a good-will offering sort of thing.”

Gibbs nodded. “And, Tim, get in touch with Abby. She’ll be having kittens. I sent your stuff to her, messenger. She’ll have it tomorrow, so I want her forewarned. I do not want her having a meltdown.”

Tim frowned, “Not lookin’ forward to that. She’ll have a cow no matter what I say. But ...” he dragged his phone out of his pocket and speed dialed. “No time like the present. Rip the Band-Aid off and all that.” He put the phone on speaker and dropped it on the table.

“Timmy! I got an email from Sara. And one from Tony. What the ever lovin’?”

Tim just told Abby his story then said, “I’m okay. Really. Concussion clearing up as we speak, ribs taped. I’m workin’ on Identi-kit pictures of the two I got a look at. My clothes are on the way to you. The ER Docs made pretty sure there’s nothing usable. Sorry.”

Abby snorted. “I’ll deal. But I want the name of the doctor. I’m gonna rip him, or her, a new one. They get training. They know how to handle evidence. But do they follow protocols? No, they’re too busy to just put clothing in a bag instead of dropping it on the floor and walking all over it. Can’t take an extra swab.” She took an audible breath. “Well, send me the numbers. I’ll find what I can. You take care.” A sharp ding brought about the usual Abby comment of, “Oops, my babies call. Bye.”

Tim hung up, then frowned at the phone. “I’d like to go back to the scene.”

Gibbs nodded. “Okay, might jar something loose.” He picked up his coffee cup, but it was empty. “Damn. I’m goin’ for coffee.” He paused at the door. “Tim, get a printer while you’re out.” He eyed him for a moment, “And take somethin’ for your head. No sense in sufferin’.”

Dean stood up. “Comin’ with, Jet.” Gibbs nodded and ambled out the door, with Dean on his heels.

Jimmy just fished around in his bag. “Here. Take two now, two in three hours, and another two, if you need them.” He handed over three rice-paper-wrapped packs of pills in a sandwich bag.

Tim took the baggie, got out a pack and crunched the pills, rice paper and all. “Thanks, Doc.” He tucked the rest into a pocket. “I’m goin’ to Wal-Mart for a printer. I’ll stop by the scene on the way back.”

Remy and Tony both got up and joined Tim. “We’re goin’ with Tim.”

Tim nodded to Remy. “You’re drivin’.”

Tony immediately protested, “And why him instead of me? I’m a good driver.”

Tim shoved a tablet at him. “Because you’re navigating. I’m not. All I’m doing is napping until we get there, picking out a printer, then napping again until we get back.”

Tony snickered but agreed, “Yeah, that concussion thing will really get to you. Come on.”

They took one of the two cars they’d gotten from Namaste. Tim got in the back seat and promptly fell asleep. He was exhausted from being shaken awake every two hours all night long. His head was still pounding, but he’d gotten food into himself, and coffee. He was hoping that the nap and grunt candy would cure his headache. 

Remy kept his voice down as he consulted with Tony on their route to Wal-Mart. It was clear across town and out in the country in one of those shopping complexes that seemed to have everything. But it was the only place within fifty miles that they had any hope of finding a printer.

It took them about fifteen minutes to do the drive, and they sat in the parking lot for a bit more. Tim finally stirred, grumbled, “We there?” and sat up.

Tony got out while saying, “Yeah, McSleepy, we’re here. Up an’ at ‘em.”

Tim snarled, “Be glad you didn’t say ‘rise an’ shine.’ Jerk.”

Remy slammed the door, making Tim flinch. “Sorry, homme. Head still hurt?”

Tim rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, feels like Thor’s in there, trying to hammer his way out. Fuck.” Tim ignored Jimmy’s orders and chewed two more pills.

They found the electronics department; Tim avoided the young man who was working the area and grabbed a box. “This one. It’s good enough, and not that expensive.” He tossed a couple of boxes of ink cartridges and several reams of paper into the cart and announced, “That’ll do it. If we need more ink or paper ...”

Tony shrugged, “Just tear the top off the boxes and keep them. That way anyone can come back for more.”

They checked out, loaded all the stuff into the trunk of the car, and headed back to town. Tim went back to sleep after drinking the bottle of water Tony handed him.

Tony consulted with Remy, and they decided to put off visiting the crime scene until Tim was better.

When they arrived at the station, Tim was awake and ready to set up the printer. 

The sheriff met them at the door, holding it open for them while he said, “Well, I’m sorry about that ol’ printer, but we bought vests out of this year’s budget so ...” he shrugged.

Tim chuckled. “I think vests are a bit more important than a printer. We’re probably going to be doing a lot of printing, so we decided to take the load off your printer by getting one of our own.” He carried the boxed printer in through the door. “Thanks.”

Remy followed with the reams of paper, while Tony brought up the rear with the bag of ink cartridges. “Merci.”

“Welcome. I’m goin’ down to the Java Pot. Can I bring you anything?”

They all gave their orders, with Tony ordering another plain, black coffee. Sheriff Madigan shook his head. “A double double? Man, you’ll never sleep.”

Tony shrugged, then said in a companionable tone of voice, “I don’t sleep a lot. Four hours will do me for weeks.”

Remy nodded. “It do. But then he’ll crash an’ sleep for a whole day.”

“Only after the op is over. Jerk.” Tony elbowed Remy in the ribs.

“Jerk your own self.” Remy elbowed Tony back.

Gibbs called them to order before they wound up in one of their wrestling matches. “You two lugnuts get in here and help Tim. Sheriff Madigan doesn’t need his furniture turned into toothpicks. Come on.”

Tony smacked Remy on the shoulder; Remy smacked him in the stomach. Gibbs swatted both of them on the butt. “In! Now!” 

Someone snickered in the outer office and was called to order by Sheriff Madigan. “You want to snicker? Fine, we’ll see how funny you think cleaning out the cell block is.”

A quick rustle of people returning to their work made him add, “I thought not.”

Tim took his time setting the printer up. He needed to establish a network to tie all their computers to the printer, so everyone turned their computers on. He crawled around on the floor for a few minutes, checking that the power bars were all plugged into different outlets. The building might be new, but putting this much drain on one outlet wasn’t a good idea. He finally stood up, satisfied that they weren’t going to fry something or trip a breaker. “Okay, everything’s up. Who can’t make a connection to the printer?”

Everyone busied themselves with checking the connection. It wasn’t long before everyone had a connection. 

Just as they were settling that, an officer stuck his head in the door. “Sheriff got a call-out. No coffee run. Sorry.”

Tim sighed, crunched more pills and sat down at his computer. “Okay. What do we know, what do we need to know, and who’s gonna make the coffee run?”

Gibbs chuckled. “I’ll make it. Jimmy, with me.”

Jimmy perked up. He wasn’t good at most of this stuff and was feeling a bit left out. “Okay, great. Who wants what?”

Everyone gave their orders and Jimmy wrote them down. When Gibbs protested that he could remember, Jimmy just wagged the tablet at him and said, “If I write it down, no one can claim I didn’t order what they said. I can remember it too but ... not puttin’ up with bitchin’ because some jackass changed their damn mind.”

They walked the two blocks to the Java Pot and put in their order. The barista looked at them, then frowned. She finally asked, “Is there something wrong with your orders?”

Gibbs shook his head. “No. Why do you ask?”

“Because ... most of the time, when people keep coming back like this, their orders got done wrong.”

Jimmy grinned. “No, the orders are fine. We just drink a lot of coffee, and cop-shop coffee is ... bad.”

Gibbs made a face, swallowed half his cup and said, “Bad. More like ditch water than anything else. It’s undrinkable.” He finished his coffee and filled the cup again. “We ready?”

Jimmy shook his head. “Fill it up again, Jet. Our order isn’t ready yet.”

Gibbs grumbled. “I don’t see why you boys insist on drinking that fru-fru shit. All that crap, how can you taste the coffee?”

Jimmy frowned at their order for a moment. “Have you noticed what AJ’s drinkin’?”

Gibbs sighed, “Yeah, I have. I’d worry, but it wouldn’t help anything.”

“I’m worried. He’s gonna go off the rails if we don’t find those guys soon.”

Gibbs shook his head. “I don’t think so. He’s not comfortable in this town, feels threatened. But he’s not going to do anything to jeopardize the case. Doesn’t think like that.”

Jimmy gave him a doubtful look but subsided, deciding that Gibbs knew Tony better than anyone outside the other SEALs. “Okay, if you say so.”

Gibbs just took the bag the barista handed him and headed out.

They were about halfway back when an elderly woman stopped them. “You the Fed men that are looking into that attack?”

Gibbs just nodded and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. You find those heathens and get them out of our county. We don’t like people like them. Un-Christian, uncivilized, nasty sorts like that give a town a bad name.” She snorted inelegantly then shook her cane at Jimmy. “And you. What are you grinning at?”

Jimmy jumped a bit but admitted, “You remind me of my Gran ... and Remy’s. We’ll deal with those ... men. We’ll find them and clean up the mess. Promise.”

She eyed both men for a moment then nodded firmly. “See that you do.” And with that, she walked off, muttering about cops that stuck their heads in the sand.

Jimmy watched her leave. “Well ... I guess she told us.”

“We been owned,” Gibbs agreed.

They returned to the conference room, handed out the coffee and returned to the grunt work of investigating.

They worked steadily, compiling spreadsheets of information, listing people to interview with addresses and phone numbers, and doing all the sort of thing you never hear about.

Gibbs finally glanced at his watch, realized that they had an hour to get back to Namaste before they were late for their obligatory classes. “Okay, wrap it up. We got to be going, or we’ll be late to class.”

They all grumbled a bit, but shut things down. Tim produced a huge military locker from under the table and ordered, “Either take your computers with you or lock them up here.”

Remy eyed the locker. “Where you get dat?”

“Requisitioned it from property.”

They all decided to take their computers with them, but lock everything else up. It didn’t take them long to put all their paperwork in the locker, lock it, and head out.

Gibbs dropped by the sheriff’s office. “Got a sec?”

Sheriff Madigan nodded. “I do. Problem?”

“Don’t know. Why didn’t you tell us your suspicions? About the perps?” Gibbs fixed the sheriff with a gimlet eye.

“Didn’t want to prejudice your investigation. We’ve learned not to share too much if we hand an investigation off to the PD. Or t’other way round. Makes a mess. Better you gather facts for a couple of days, then we share. Sorry if I put you off.”

Gibbs nodded. “Okay, see your point. Next question: Tim was attacked in the city limits, so why is the Sheriff’s Department investigating?”

The sheriff grinned at that. “Around here we tend to give the case to the department that the perps are most likely living in. In this case we know it’s the county, although half their crimes are in the city limits. Saves on jurisdictional squabbles. Satisfied?” The sheriff made it plain that he wasn’t offended by Gibbs’ questions.

“I am. Thanks.” Gibbs turned and headed off to join the pod.

.

They arrived at class a bit late but dressed in the exercise gear provided by Namaste. In their case, this meant baggy cotton drawstring shorts and sleeveless shirts. The rest of the class had waited for them.

The instructor nodded to them, “I understand that you really don’t want to take a class, but please be courteous enough to arrive on time.”

Tony grinned at her then said, “Sorry, we lost track of time. I’ll set my alarm so we won’t be late ... tomorrow?” He made the last word a question, as no one was sure what classes they would take when.

She eyed him for a moment, then nodded. “Fine. Take places. Mats are already set out for you.” She nodded to two smiling faces, “Penny and Sara did it.”

Penny announced, “I wasn’t sure what props you would need, so I put a full set at each place.”

The group moved to take places on the mats; as they arranged their props, Tony asked, “How’s your foot, Jet?”

“Good. Only hurts when I put a lot of stress on it. I rested it like Jimmy said to.”

“Good. We’ve all got to stop pushing through when we don’t need to. You gonna be up for a run tomorrow morning?”

Gibbs thought about it as the teacher called them to order. “I’ll see after this.”

“Okay.”

“People, please. I’ll introduce myself for those who don’t know me. My name is Sally Winchester, no jokes please. If you have something to say, please share it with the class. Mr. Gibbs?”

Gibbs decided that she was trying to embarrass him, which never worked well. “I hurt my foot a couple of days ago. Nearly chopped off a toe with an axe. AJ was just asking how it was. We’ll see after this class. Please ... carry on.”

Sally nodded. “Thank you. Okay, class, this is an Iyengar class, intermediate level.” and with that she started leading them through the hour-long class. It wasn’t long before Sally realized that her new students weren’t just taking the class because it was required for them to stay at the retreat. Gibbs did find that he needed to nurse his foot just a bit; assuming any fully flexed position compressed the bruise. 

At the end of the class, all the Pod settled and rested in Savasana while the rest of the class, except Penny, jumped up and scrambled around to gather their things and rush off.

Penny grumbled, “You’d think they’d at least be quiet about it,” then settled back to try to recover her calm.

Sally quietly moved around, picking up mats and props that some of the students had just walked off and left. 

After several minutes, Tony got up slowly, stretched, then glanced around. “Everyone ready?” The rest of the group stirred, then started getting up, stretching, and gathering their mats and props. 

Penny admitted, “Well, I’m impressed. I didn’t think you’d be this good.”

Gibbs smirked at her. “Not bad for an ol’ war dog, huh? How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. Sara’s doing okay. I wish we could stay. I did promise you dinner, but I forgot that Sara signed up for the next semester. We’ve got to leave tomorrow so she can get ready.” She sighed. “I’d stay but I’m due at a conference on Governmental Transparency in four days, and I haven’t finished my presentation yet; time just seems to have gotten away from me. I’d cancel, but I trust you to take care of things. And Timmy ... well, he’s changed a lot in the last year or so.” Tim made a face, which Penny noticed. “For the better.” She patted Gibbs on the arm, then went to hug everyone else and say good-bye. She stopped at the door and waved, saying, “Good-bye all.” The last they saw of her was the hem of her Dashiki whipping around a corner.

Tony shook his head. “She’s quite the woman, isn’t she?”

Tim laughed, “That she is. She’s an unreformed hippy and proud of it. Remarkable woman.”

Everyone gathered their towels and whatnot, then headed for the cottage to shower and change for supper.

They were all tired and just wanted to rest, so they decided to have something delivered from the center instead of going over. They had a schedule of interviews arranged for tomorrow, some here at the center with staff who were willing to talk to them, and a list of names of townies to try to track down. 

Jimmy called the center while the rest of them dealt with KP and printing out lists of names. 

Jimmy found that the delivery included anything on any menu, so he ordered a selection of things from the Healthy Eating Your Way restaurant. A lot of it was casseroles or sandwiches; accompanied by salads. They were all a bit surprised when a young woman showed up on a golf cart with a hot box on it. It was filled with hot casseroles, hot sandwiches and wraps; the other side of the box was just closed, and she got bags of salad mix, bottles of house dressings, and toppings from there. “Here we go. I’ll have to make several trips, so, if you’ll just be seated ...” she trailed off.

Tony ordered, “Everyone come out and grab something. No need for ...” he got a look at her badge, “Emily to make a dozen trips.” 

She dimpled at him, but said, “That’s okay. I can manage.”

Tony shooed her toward the door. “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. We’ll bring it in, you ... make it pretty.”

“Okay. I can do that.” She carried in what she was holding and put it down on the table. She set the table with dishes and flatware from the cabinets. As the food was brought in, she set it out. Then she found the salad set, made a huge dry salad, and put that on the table too. “There. All you have to do is serve yourselves.”

Gibbs, whose memory was nearly photographic, asked, “Emily ... what? Are you on our lists?”

Emily nodded. “I am. Why?”

Gibbs pulled out a chair and said, “Sit down. Join us, and we’ll get your interview done now so you don’t have to mess with it tomorrow.”

Emily grinned. “Oh, goody. I had plans for tomorrow, but management asked, very nicely, if I’d do an interview. I agreed, of course. There’s actually a company policy about last-minute changes in schedules. So ...” she helped herself to a tuna melt and salad. “What do you want to know?”

It didn’t take them long to find out that none of the girls Emily knew had had any trouble with the locals; they had heard some complaints from some of the local girls in the last few months. It seemed that some new guys wanted more than a girl was willing to offer and got ugly about things. No one had been hurt, but Emily added “yet.” Her opinion was that some gang was trying to move in, but they were inexperienced and didn’t know how to do the job right.

Tony smirked at her, “And you know how to do the job right?”

“I’m majoring in psychology, specializing in gangs and gang impact on social systems. So ... yeah.” She frowned into her drink. “See, the problem is, most people are non-confrontational. They don’t want trouble. They’ll mostly ignore things until it’s too late, then they want someone to fix it. Gangs take advantage of that. This attack on Mr. McGee ... it’s too early in the game for that sort of thing. It’s thrown the balance of power off. If you strike now and strike hard, they won’t know how to deal with it. You need someone who’s not afraid to ... make a mess.”

Tony snickered. “We’re not afraid to make a mess. In fact, that’s what we’re trained to do. Big bang.”

Emily nodded. “Well, as long as the local LEO’s don’t get in the way.”

Gibbs agreed. “Right. And the locals want this to go away just as much as civilians do. We’re the go-to guys in this situation. All we have to do is find them.”

“As to that: No one is sure where they hide out ... but it’s got to be in the country somewhere. They’re not in town; someone would have said something, and they’re certainly not here at Namaste.” She frowned. “It would be somewhere that no one pays much attention to.” Gibbs nodded his agreement and the rest made appropriate noises to keep her talking. “The sheriff wouldn’t know about it either; he’d have busted them if he did.”

Tim said, “I told the sheriff everything I could, but I was pretty concussed; I’m not sure I really made sense. Um ... they smelled.”

Remy frowned, “Like BO?”

“Yeah, but something else. Not sure what. Never smelled anything like it before.”

Emily frowned. “That’s too bad.” She smiled, “But I’m glad to see you looking so good.”

Tim rubbed his side. “Head’s better but my ribs still twinge if I move wrong. That yoga actually helped.”

Tony poked at the last of his salad. “Well, good. We’re running tomorrow morning before we go into town, and there’s tai chi tomorrow night if we don’t work it in in the morning.”

Emily smiled around and stood up. “I’ll just clean up this mess and be on my way.”

Gibbs eyed the demolished table; there wasn’t a scrap of food left. “Don’t bother. We can do KP ourselves. Have a nice evening.”

“Okay, thanks. Oh! Before I forget. Ayami went home, as she can’t work with that burn, but she said to tell you all thanks, and the doctor said she’ll be fine in a couple of weeks.” She thought for a moment, then offered, “The gang is around ten ... fifteen men, but most of them don’t seem to really be more than ... hangers-on. If you put enough pressure on them, everyone but the core group might do a runner. The ones who attacked Mr. McGee are the core group.” She gathered up the few containers that needed to be returned to the kitchens and left, calling, “Night now.” They heard her cart buzz away into the night.

It didn’t take them long to clean the kitchen, put the dishes in the dishwasher, and wipe down the counters and table. Tony fiddled with the coffeemaker, then took his cup out onto the front porch. He settled in a swing and just sat, drinking his coffee and brooding.

Gibbs consulted with Remy, then told everyone to leave him alone for the evening. 

Jimmy took a moment to check both Gibbs’ foot and Tim’s ribs. He advised both of them to follow the advice in the old joke, gave them both more grunt candy, and wandered off to read a book on his tablet.

The rest of the group wound up in the kitchen, playing strip poker, which Gibbs announced was stupid, as no one was interested in the sight of anyone else’s junk. He went to bed when he was down to jeans. The rest of the group went soon after, admitting that it had been interesting, but next time they were playing for cookies.  
.

Gibbs woke up at 0500, as usual, staggered out of bed and dragged on the old, frayed BDU’s he’d put out before he went to bed. He could hear the others doing much the same thing.

Someone pounded on the door and yelled, “Gunny Jet! Up!”

He yelled back, “I’m fuckin’ up, damn it!” He winced a bit as he laced his boot, but decided that his foot was well on the way to being healed.

They gathered in the kitchen for coffee and grumbled their way through a couple of cups each. Tony swilled the double-strength brew like water.

Remy eyed him for a moment then asked, “You sleep?”

“Couple a’ hours. I’m fine.” Tony scowled into his cup.

“Oui, homme, I see dat.” Everyone could tell that Remy was upset, because his accent was suddenly so thick that only people who knew him well would understand him.

Tim frowned; he was sensitive to Tony, and everyone knew it. “What’s wrong, AJ?”

“I’m gonna ... It’s ... I should have been here.” Tony rubbed his face in agitation.

Now that he’d spoken, everyone realized that Tony, as a good CO, felt responsible, on some level, for Tim’s getting hurt.

Tim smacked him in the head. “No. How the hell could anyone know that some jackwad redneck wannabe capo was gonna take exception to me talking to a clerk in a drug store? Seriously. Calm down.”

Gibbs nodded. “Run it off. Come on.”

They all scrambled for the door, grabbing hydration packs from Jimmy, then heading out for the marked trails a leaflet had described. 

Dean demanded, “Okay, AJ, how far?”

Tony frowned for a moment. “We’ll take Black Trail and see.”

Everyone immediately began moaning and bitching. The trails were designated by colored markers on the trail side. Each color was a different distance and difficulty, with Black being the longest and hardest. It was six miles of up- and downhill, rough terrain. Tony just grunted and started out.

Gibbs paced Remy. “How do we fix this?”

Remy shook his head. “You know him as well as I do. You really think we’re gonna fix this?”

Gibbs grumbled. “No. He’s not gonna be satisfied until we find these jackoffs and bring ‘em in.”

“Exactly. An’ he gonna be like a bear wit a sore foot ’til we do.” Remy picked up his pace a bit to catch up to the group, with Gibbs on his heels.

They found that the “challenging” course was no challenge to them, but there were pieces of equipment along the way, just like at Quantico, where they could do things like Salmon Ladder, pull-ups, sit-ups, and monkey-swing. 

They ran and sweated in the early morning cool, glad that this area wasn’t the sweatbox that the flatter lands nearby were. Jimmy nagged them to drink, Tony barked at the laggers to keep up. Gibbs snarled at their heels. Everyone bitched and complained about the exercises. Dean grumbled about pebbles digging into his back at the sit-up rack. Remy whined that the pull-up bars were too low, so Tony told him to ’90 degree your damn legs, you big girl.’ They were half way through the loop when Gibbs called a hydration stop; his foot was really beginning to hurt.

“Jimmy, candy, please. My foot’s acting up.” He wasn’t about to take his boot off. He was well aware that, if he did, he might not get it back on, but he did loosen the laces.

Jimmy handed over the required medication and a bottle of water. No one was surprised that Jimmy’s hydration pod included a rather extensive medical kit. He’d sworn he wasn’t leaving home without it when he’d been caught out by Ayami’s burning herself. He was now carrying a complete field medic kit everywhere. 

“Take that. Drink this. You want me to take a look now, or wait until we get to the trail head?”

Gibbs crunched the pills then drank half the water. “I’ll wait. I don’t think I’m doing any damage, it’s just tender still. Thanks.”

Everyone had taken the opportunity to get a good drink instead of the few sips that their stride allowed. Tony let them walk around a bit then barked, “Let’s go!”

Gibbs led out; he was tired of eating dust. He put a bit of extra speed in his jog and ignored the pain of his still-bruised foot. 

They hit the trail head sweating and dusty. No one was breathing too hard, but they all were breathing more heavily than Tony felt they should be. “Okay, you slackers, we’ll be running this course until we can finish two laps without panting. And that includes all stations. Drink. Walk around. Tai Chi class in ...” he glanced at his watch. “Thirty minutes.”

Cosmo gave a small cheer. “Yay. I can take a shower before class. We got uniforms from Namaste. Nice jacket with the center logo on them and the pants are elastic waist and ankles, but they’re adjustable. Buttons, but still.” Cosmo had ankles like a gazelle, so this was a real concern. He’d gotten a foot caught in the opposite leg a couple of times; the result hadn’t been pretty.

They ran to the cottage and squabbled genially over whether the hot water would hold out or not. Turned out that it did, and they were a bit early to class.

The teacher was a rather elderly Chinese man, but no one was fooled by that.

He asked what their levels were, and Remy, who happened to be nearest the man, said, “We’re all probably either high-level one or low-level two. We all practice daily, but we’re on deployment often enough that we don’t have a regular teacher. Jimmy and Tim don’t take classes when we’re not State-side.”

The Sifu nodded. “You may call me Chang-sifu. Now. I will lead you through a routine ... we’ll stop when it gets too hard.” He eyed them all for a moment then said, “And I will decide.”

Chang-sifu bowed to the group who all bowed back in proper form.

“Good, good. We begin.” He started the Royal, or one-hundred-and-three-posture Yang-style routine. 

They started with First form and went through the entire 103 postures. Chang-sifu was pleased and let them know it. He examined them, then asked, “Any of you think about weapons? Fan? Sword?”

They all shook their heads. Tony told him, “No. We’re not into the philosophy thing. We just do it for flexibility and conditioning. We use different weapons.” He grinned a bit as Chang-sifu raised an eyebrow. 

“I see,” the older man nodded. “I thought I’d offer.”

Gibbs nodded back. “Thanks. We appreciate it.”

“Next session, we’ll just do more of the same. Have a good day.” And with that, he bowed and left the room, his sprightly step belying his age.

Tim smiled at that. “I’m keeping up my practice if that’s the result.”

Gibbs nodded. “Hang with me. Anyone will tell you that you have to keep it up, or you’ll lose it. So ... next class?”

Tim produced his tablet and got their schedule. “Not until day after tomorrow. We have a yoga class tomorrow morning at this time. Seems they just assigned us random classes on no predictable schedule. Probably just enough to justify our attendance to the regular clients.”

“Okay, then. Breakfast, then Sheriff’s office.”

Dean thought for a moment then said, “What say we try that Healthy Way place? What they delivered was good.”

They all agreed that they’d at least look. If they didn’t like it, there was always Wendy’s, McDonalds, or something. They headed back for the cottage to shower and change.

When they got to the center, the restaurant was just opening. The busboy met them at the door and just grinned. “Early birds. Just plop yourselves down wherever. I’ll get menus and water and be right there.”

They took the big central table, despite the fact that it put everyone’s back to part of the room. Since there were none of those popular short walls, it wasn’t a problem, as there was no place for anyone to hide. The room was very large, with the tables set well apart. A wall of windows provided a great view and let in the morning sun.

They settled and waited for menus, coffee, and water. They didn’t have long to wait; the hostess showed up quickly, exclaiming, “My, aren’t you the early birds. Sylvia will be your server. She’ll be here in a moment. She just clocked in. Do you need anything before she gets here?”

Gibbs grumbled, “Coffee, no worms.”

The hostess said, “Excuse me?”

“Early bird gets the worm. Only I’d rather have bacon.”

The hostess made the connection and snickered. “Well, that we have. No worms.” She walked off to make sure that the busboy brought the coffee around.

He showed up with water and coffee, saying, “Sylvia will be out in a sec. Who wants coffee?”

Everyone had turned their cups up, so he filled them as he rambled about this and that. None of them paid much attention to him until he said, “And I’m enlisting as soon as I can.”

Tim politely asked, “What branch?”

“Army, I guess. I know they’ll take me. Warm body and all that.”

“Why not try for the Navy?” Tony poked Gibbs in the ribs.

Gibbs poked him back and said, “Marines.”

There was a bit of snickering all around. 

Jake, the busboy, shrugged. “I’ll be 18 soon and ... I’m in foster care, if you can call it that. I’ll have to move out within the week. State won’t be responsible for me after that. I figure that the military is a good way to go. Get money for college, that sort of thing.”

Tony nodded. “It is. But you do need to understand that you’ll be deployed at least once.”

Jake made a face but replied, “I figured. But ... college money aside, I’ll be doin’ somethin’ good. Right?”

Tony nodded. “I believe you will. Consider the Navy. It’s better. You might actually wind up aboard a ship and never see combat.”

“How do you know so much?” Jake looked around quickly; his supervisor was good, but he really wasn’t supposed to visit so much.

Tony just grinned, pointed at each man in turn and said, “SEAL, SEAL, NCIS, NCIS, SEAL, Marine. And I’m a SEAL. I actually command this bunch of misfits. Except for the Leatherneck.”

Jake snickered, “Yeah, SEALs and a Marine telling me I could avoid combat. Not that I want to have to shoot at anyone but ... let’s be realistic. With my family background and education, I’m ground pounder material at best.”

Tony snorted, then said, “If you think like that, that’s all you’ll be. Go in intending to wind up a general at least. We all started out as low man. I’m a Lt. Cmdr. And he’s ...” he went around the table telling the boy each person’s rank and skills. “See? And we all started at the bottom of the pile. Just work hard, learn anything you can, and stay out of trouble.”

Jake frowned, “Maybe the recruiter’s advice isn’t so bad. He said to go into the Air Force. I love planes and that. I don’t want to be a pilot, but I could be a mechanic. That would give me life skills I can use all my life.”

Sylvia chose to show up just then. “I’ve got it, Jake. Thanks a bunch.” She turned to hand out menus and practically gave Jake a cold shoulder.

Gibbs took a card out of his ID. “Here’s my card. If you need help, just call. I mean it.” He gave Jake that look of his.

Jake took it with a huge smile. “Gee, thanks. I really appreciate this.” This resulted in everyone giving him a card, including Jimmy and Tim. 

Jimmy told him, “We’re both in NCIS,” he pointed to Tim. “We’ll do whatever we can for you.”

Jake thanked them too, then hurried off to the back as the chef had called him, politely, to do dishes.

Sylvia smiled at them all. “Man, thanks so much for that. He’s a good kid, and it really sucks that he’s going to be dumped out on his own next month. He could move in here, but the parent company has a rule that only those over 21 can live in housing.” She took a deep breath. “Now. What can I get you?”

“We’ve got coffee, water, and menus. We just need a bit to decide. Thanks.” Gibbs took over as he usually did. He opened his menu, dismissing the server until she was needed.

She didn’t take offense, just leaving to prep her station. She’d check on them in a few minutes, refill coffee, and see if they were ready to order.

As they looked at the menu, they were interested to see that the bacon was turkey, and tofu was listed as a protein. The whole breakfast menu was wraps, panini, cereal bowls, and salads. The salads were interesting, as they included quinoa, mixed fruits, and nuts.

Tony remarked, “I’m impressed. I just hope the food lives up to the promise. You can actually start with great ingredients and wind up with garbage. Prep is everything with health food. And the rather strange idea that salt is poison makes no sense with health food. It needs salt, sugar, spices, and herbs, especially the grains. Although supper gives me hope.”

Jimmy idly commented, “And there’s the Phys Ed degree.”

Tim frowned at his menu. “Well, I looked at the requirements ... finally. Actually looks like Pre-Med. With a side of Physical Therapy.”

“It is. And damn hard. Especially when I had to keep up with two sports as well. It’s really hard to study when you’ve got two coaches on your ass.” He grinned around the table. “It did prep me for BUD/s.”

They returned to the menus, finally deciding on wraps and dress-it-yourself grain bowls. Sylvia was a bit amused to hear that everyone wanted the bacon, egg, avocado, tomato, and cheese wrap, and the steamed five-grain bowl with peach and pecans. They asked for a variety of juices, and Jimmy took tea instead of coffee, gaining him some teasing for that.

It wasn’t long before she returned with the food. The wraps were a bit small, but they’d expected this and ordered two apiece. The bowls were interesting, as they were served in donburi-style bowls: shallow, wide bowls with lids. They were covered with sliced peaches arranged in an attractive pattern, with nuts scattered over the top. The “dress-it-yourself” additions included dried cranberries, brown sugar, raw sugar, honey, cream, cinnamon, nutmeg, and yoghurt.

They were also offered a selection of dry cereal in small boxes. Tony cheerfully took one and scattered it over the top of his bowl; he also dumped honey, cranberries, nutmeg, and yoghurt into it. 

Everyone else did much the same, putting in a selection of this and that that made their food more appealing to them.

It didn’t take them long to down the rather, to them, skimpy portions and order more.

This brought about a visit from the resident dietitian. 

She eyed the second servings with some dismay. “Gentlemen, do you really want all that? Do you have any idea how many calories you’re consuming in one meal?”

Tony, as the resident Physical Education expert, nodded. “I do. We do. Now, I’m not trying to be rude but ... do you have any idea how much exercise we get on a daily basis? Do you know what we do for a living?”

“Well, no, no, and tell me about it.” She settled in uninvited, which earned her a side-oogle of the not-happy variety from the whole table.

Gibbs silently munched on his wrap while he watched Tony take the woman down gently but firmly. He’d long ago dropped the idiot frat-boy act, but he was still a very personable man, when he wanted to be.

“Well, we ran the Black trail, doing all the stations on the way. Then we had a full Royal form Tai Chi workout. Now we’re eating. I think we have a yoga class tonight. And we’re running an investigation. All of us eat somewhere around four to five thousand calories a day and fight to keep weight on. Now ... I’m aware that you’re only trying to help, and I appreciate it. But I’ve got a degree in Phys Ed and several other disciplines, and Jimmy’s an M.D. So ... I think we’ve kinda got it covered.”

The lady smiled. “Okay. That’s good. It’s just ... it’s my job to keep people from undoing all the good they do themselves in class. However, if you’re having trouble keeping weight on, try protein supplements.” She got up and ambled off, stopping at a table to speak with the older couple there.

“Well, that went well.” Tony scowled into his bowl. “I’m still hungry.” Gibbs passed him a wrap.

They were just finishing when Jake showed up with a tray of smoothies. “The nutritionist prescribed these.” He started passing them out. “They’re really good. Protein powder, soy milk, banana, orange juice, and vanilla ... dash of nutmeg. Good calories from good sources. Help you maintain your weight.”

Gibbs took a hesitant sip of his, smiled and said, “Tastes good. Sorta like a milkshake.”

Dean nodded. “It does.” The rest were too busy downing the shakes to say much.

Jake took off at a call from another table, waving over his shoulder as he went.

It wasn’t long before the last wrap was eaten, the grain bowls scraped clean, and the coffee and shakes gone. Remy pushed back from the table with a sigh. “Much better than yesterday. We better put a wheel under it.”

 

Chapter 5

 

They piled into the two cars and drove to the Sheriff’s Station. They were greeted by the Sheriff himself.

“Mornin’. Sorry about crappin’ out on that coffee run. Got a bit of something out of it though.” He put a bound report on the table. “All the info is there. An’ I’m goin’ home. Been up all night.” He rubbed his eyes. “Do me a favor an’ catch this bunch. I know they’re holed up in the park somewhere, but I can’t find ‘em. They’ve burned down a barn. Farmer says they came and asked for protection money. Only problem is ...” he grinned tiredly. “The barn was old and didn’t have anything in it but an ol’ pickup and some junk. Now, we’ve got ‘em on assault on a Federal Officer, battery the same, hit and run, and arson. We’ll bury ‘em under the jail.” He dumped a box of sweet rolls on the table. “Help yourselves.”

Gibbs nodded. “We’ll get ‘em.” He took a roll.

Tony frowned at nothing. “We need some way to overfly the park. A group like that leaves obvious tracks in and out. If we can find the tracks, we can find them. Need a chopper.”

Dean shook his head. “Too much noise. They’ll ...” he trailed off.

Remy twitched his shoulders like a horse shaking off flies. “Do what?”

Cosmo picked a sweet roll. “Ground to air. Scatter like a covey of quail. Go to ground, then run.”

Gibbs just pointed to him. “What he said.”

Sheriff Madigan winced. “Ground to air? You think they might have something like that?”

“No tellin’. Just not takin’ a chance with ‘em.” Cosmo bit into his roll. “Mmmmm, cherry.”

They went over the report with the sheriff, then Gibbs said, “I’m not your boss but ... go the fuck home. Get some damn sleep. You’re about asleep in your coffee.”

The sheriff sighed, “I will. You need anything, let Officer Jones know.” He got up and left, shoulders slumped with weariness.

They knew a bit more about the group; they were trying to move in on the local girls, establish a protection racket, and, most likely, move drugs into the area. It wasn’t as successful as they might have expected. Old-fashioned country people, like the population of the area, weren’t the best of targets. They tended to close ranks against outsiders. All they had to do was ask the right people the right questions. But that was the problem; they needed inside contacts, which they did not have. They knew what questions to ask, but they didn’t know who to ask. The PD knew who to ask but didn’t know what questions to ask. And the PD didn’t seem to want anything to do with the case.

Gibbs glared down at his phone. “Abby. I’m not even going to ask why she needs to know how to make a shape charge.” He frowned, “Thought she already knew.”

Tony took his phone and read the text. “Oh! She wants to know how to make an auto-detonating paint bomb. Needs a very small charge directed out in every direction.” He frowned, then texted quickly. Gibbs started to say something but Tony cut him off. “Boss, I do not want to know. Absolutely.”

Gibbs had a feeling he knew what was going on, realized that he couldn’t care less; let stupid take care of itself. He went off to see the Chief of Police.

.

The Chief looked up from a pile of paperwork when Gibbs tapped on the door frame. “Come in. Take a load off.”

Gibbs put the cup of coffee he’d gotten from the break room in front of the Chief. “Coffee from the lounge.”

Chief Thorogood, no relation, frowned at it. “No, thank you. I appreciate the thought but ... it’s terrible. No idea why, either. We buy good grounds but this is ... anemic.”

Gibbs took the paper cup back and took a sip. He spit it back in the cup. “Man, how the hell? I looked at the grounds before I brought it. Someone just hates you all.” He dropped it into the trash.

The chief nodded. “Someone does. Now ... how can I help you?”

Gibbs sighed. “I need contacts. Someone who’ll talk to us. Who is it that’s trying to take over? Where did they come from? Where are they holed up?” He hoped he was handling this properly. Tony was always on his ass about dealing with locals. He was trying, but wasn’t sure it was worth the effort. Still, he had agreed.

The chief sighed, stood up, and suggested, “Let’s go get some real coffee at the Java Pot and talk about this.”

“Okay. That’s a deal.” He got up to follow the chief. 

As they were passing through the break room Gibbs noticed a girl starting to make coffee so he stopped to watch. She put the right amount of water into the maker but, when she started to add coffee to the filter, she ripped the bag open then poured half of it into the machine. She mumbled, “There. I swear they pour more out than they drink.”

Gibbs just reached over her shoulder and shut the machine off before it started to brew. “That’s because it tastes like ditch water. And how many times do you use the same grounds?”

The girl, obviously a clerk or secretary, said, “Twice, just like Mama.”

Gibbs shook his head. “Use the whole bag of grounds and only run it once. If it was me, I’d use a bag and a half. Don’t be stingy.” He deftly changed everything around as he spoke. “There. Try that. It’s only a waste if it’s so bad no one will drink it.”

The girl sighed, “I just know how to make it the way my Mom does. I don’t even like coffee. Tea all the way for me.”

Gibbs chuckled softly. “Iced and sweet, right?”

“Got it in one.” She smiled slightly, peeked at the chief then said, “I better get back to my filing before the boss has me on the carpet.” She twinkled at them then went off to her desk.

Chief Thorogood watched her for a moment then said, “Well, I never. Come on.” They headed out to the Java Pot.

They ambled out the door and down the street to the coffee shop, and as they walked they just visited, feeling each other out. Gibbs found the Chief to be a good man who was in over his head in this. He was experienced in general police work, and good at it. But gangs and terrorists were out of his area of experience.

They got coffee and settled in the window in a pair of wingback chairs. “Ok, Special Agent, is it?” Gibbs nodded. “What can I do? Specifically.”

Gibbs watched as a couple of kids skateboarded down the sidewalk. “I need use of one of your officers. Someone who has contact with the right, or wrong, sort of people.” he sipped his coffee, sighed and continued, “We’ve got to get a handle on where those jerks are without letting on we know. Then ... Not sure.”

The chief shrugged, scowling into his coffee. “I really don’t care what you do with ‘em. I just want ‘em outta my city. They’re not good for business; people are scared and scared people do stupid things. I’ll cooperate in any way I can. But I will warn you ... there’s no way to keep your presence a secret. This town, like most small towns, runs on coffee, pie, and gossip.” He grinned. “You haven’t stepped on any toes, and I don’t expect you to. But ... there’s just something about a couple of your people ... can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Gibbs shrugged. “I assume you mean Dean, Cosmo, and Remy.” The chief nodded. “Well, my team is a bit of an odd mix. I’m a Marine all the way. Eight years in service and still reserve. AJ, Remy, Dean, and Cosmo are SEALs. Tim is NCIS, as is Jimmy. So, we’re all up and combat ready; those jerks have committed SEALicide. Tim is the least offensive of the whole bunch, and I’m sure as death an’ taxes that he didn’t insult some girl. We’re gonna find those jackwads, shove ‘em in a hurt locker, an’ weld the door shut. Fair warnin’.”

Chief Thorogood just shrugged before taking another sip of coffee. “Just don’t kill ‘em. They’re not worth the paperwork. And, if you generate me a Foxtrot Tango of shit-tickets, you’re doin’ it.” 

Gibbs nodded. “Deal.” He finished his coffee and stood up. “I better get back.”

He stopped at the counter to get coffee to take back to his team. The barista recognized him and remembered all the order. She had it up in a few minutes. She smiled, said, “There you go. Have a nice day, y’hear?” 

Gibbs took the bag and paid. As he left he replied, “You too. Bye.” 

His return was greeted with glad cries of, ‘Coffee!’ and grabby hands.

Tony settled back in his chair, taking a huge gulp of his coffee. “Man, that’s good. So, Jet, what help are we gonna get from the PD?”

“Anything we need. My idea is ... we get a deputy and a PD officer, pair up with them and go out to ask questions. I’ve got a list of people we need to re-interview. The original interviews are good, but standard. Our perps are more in the line of domestic terrorists, so we need to ask different questions.”

Tony thought about that, then said, “Send Tim with a PD officer and me with a Deputy.”

Gibbs frowned for a moment, then asked, “You sure it’s wise to send Tim?”

Tim glowered from where he was seated at the side table, correlating data. “And why wouldn’t it be?”

“You’re the one got your ass run over. Conflict of interest,” Remy nodded wisely.

“Can it, Devereaux.” Tim tossed a wadded-up napkin at him.

Remy tossed the napkin back, moaning in mock hurt, “Oh, man, he last-named me. I’m crushed.”

Tim threw the napkin back with more force. “Crush this, bitch.”

Remy wadded the napkin into a ball the size of a pea. “Okay. Big jerk.” He flicked the ball at Tim, hitting him on the nose.

Gibbs smacked him in the head. “Cut that out. Both of you, stick a sock in it.”

Remy mumbled, “Well, he started it.”

Tim intelligently replied, “Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

The contact with the PD walked in just then and gave them all a wide-eyed look.

Tony shrugged and said, “Don’t mind the infants; they’re mostly harmless.”

The officer was about thirty, obviously homegrown, and immaculately turned out. At 5’9” he was a bit short, but his stocky build made up for that. “Sir.” He offered the room a salute.

This was a bit of a gray area, as police are civilians, although all police departments are considered para-military organizations. Saluting was considered polite, but returning the salute was up to the individual. None of the group was rude enough to refuse to return the salute, so everyone stood up and saluted in proper form. Tim and Jimmy included.

“Welcome. Sit down.” Gibbs pointed to the seat at the foot of the conference table.

The officer sat, accepted a cup of coffee, then said, “Hi. I’m Officer Sam Carson. I hear you’re gonna clean up those foreigners.” He settled back and waited expectantly.

Gibbs frowned. “Foreigners? What country are they from?”

Remy answered that. “Not country ... exactly. Just they’re from ... not here. Most country folks don’t hold with strangers from another state, some even don’t like other counties.”

Gibbs nodded. “Okay, got that. But ... in an area like this, they’d stick out like a sore thumb.” He turned his gaze back to Sam. “Okay. Have any idea where they’re from?”

“Up North a ways. Way a ways. All a’ ‘em talk like ... well, you. Sorry,” Sam frowned a bit.

Gibbs chuckled. “No offense. So ... they’re from way North. Tim, see if you can find out if there’s been any action against mobs or gangs ... way North.”

Tim nodded. “Okay, Jet. On it.” He turned to his computer and started a couple of searches, then sent several emails. “Should get something back in a few minutes.”

Gibbs frowned, but he’d learned to be patient with searches after Tim had threatened to take him on the mats if he didn’t stop bugging him every three minutes. He now allowed ten minutes before he started nagging. In this case, he turned his attention back to Officer Carson. “Okay, now that that’s out of the way. What else?”

Sam thought for a bit then offered, “I think you’re right. We’re well trained in handling B&E, domestic disputes, A&B, auto theft, and that sort of thing. But gangs? Not so much. An’ we’re struggling with jurisdictions, as most of the crimes are within the city limits, but they’re hiding out in a national park. That puts it out of the Sheriff’s jurisdiction too.”

Gibbs sighed, rubbed his face, then said, “And right into our jurisdiction. We’re Federal Agents. It would usually be the purview of the FBI and Park Service, but, since Tim is one of our own and we’re already on site, we get it. I appreciate any cooperation I can get.” He eyed Tony for a second. Tony nodded his approval, Gibbs was learning, after getting thumped a few times.

Tony added, “What we have to do is figure out where, exactly, they are. After that, a bit of reconnoitering, a bit of fact-gathering, and they’re in a world of hurt.”

Sam frowned, “And what, exactly, makes you more qualified for that than, say, a couple of Sheriff’s Deputies?”

Tony shrugged, “The fact that we make a living at it.” He went the rounds, introducing everyone. He finished, “And ... we might have access to some satellite imaging, if we get lucky.” He nodded at Tim. “He knows someone in nearly every computer company on Earth.”

Tim looked up. “I think I might be able to get Google Maps to update this area early. Matter of public record, so no specific search warrant needed.”

Dean looked at him for a moment then said, “Dude!” in an awe stricken tone.

Tim smirked and said, “They don’t call me Digimon because I’m cute.”

There was a tap on the door just then. Tony called, “Enter,” then flushed a bit.

Gibbs just snorted his amusement and added, “Park it somewhere.”

The sheriff’s Deputy ambled in and settled next to Sam. Hi. Fred Martin, Deputy.”

Everyone introduced themselves again and they settled in to discuss everything. Tim turned when his computer beeped and said, “Okay. Got new G-maps views. Looks like ... Um ...” he pushed the printed map to the locals and said, “Notice anything?”

They looked at the maps, but weren’t sure. “There’s some odd-looking tracks here, but not sure what they are. No car could get in there, but it’s not an ATV. Pickup, maybe. Never seen tracks quite like that.”

Tim frowned. “I’ll send a gps to Abby. She might be able to make something of it.”

Sam looked at Fred, then Tim. “Looks like hell.” Fred nodded.

Tim was recovering nicely, but his face was still bruised; these bruises were now in the healing stage where they were yellow, orange, green, and brown. He did look like hell. He gave the room a hairy eyeball, then went back to work.

Fred offered, “The Pool Que was a good place to get intel, sort of a ... free zone. But that bunch has moved in there. So ... maybe not. We’ll just have to drop in and see.”

Tony nodded. “Hate it when a good source dries up. But we’ll drop by and talk to the bartender. What time?”

“Place doesn’t even open ’til seven.” Sam grimaced. “And we also need to check out Mary’s bar and grill. It’s out in the county. Lot of the farm folk go there.”

Dean shrugged. “The food any good?”

“Fair. Old-fashioned, plain fare. Nothing fancy, but what she does make is good.”

Gibbs looked at Tony. “Okay; Sam, you and AJ go there and ask around. Keep it low-key. Don’t piss off the locals.”

Fred frowned. “It’s in the county, so why Sam instead of me?” he looked up at Gibbs, who was frowning. “Just learnin’, here.” 

Tony took the explanation. “If you go, it’s more official. People might clam up on us. Sam ... he’s local. LEO. But ... safe. See?”

Fred nodded. “I do. He has authority, if you need it. But it’s not his normal jurisdiction, so he’s not a threat. Got it. And I’m going with someone to the Pool Que. Right?”

Tony nodded. “Exactly. But we’re all going geared up, with backup in place. Just in case.”

Gibbs agreed, “Right in one. When’s a good time to hit Mary’s?”

Sam thought. “Lunch time. She’s a good dinner place, but it’s all families then ... not the people we want to speak to. So,” he glanced at his watch, “We need to move out in a bit. If we get there too early, they’ll be busy with setup and no one will be there. If we get there too late, all the guys we want to see will be done and gone.”

Gibbs turned to Tim. “Set an alarm so we don’t miss lunch. I’m callin’ an all-department meeting right now.” He phoned both the Sheriff and the Chief to get that set up.

While he was doing that, Cosmo demanded that they gear up and inspect. He and Remy went out to the cars to bring in their rucks and gear.

Thirty minutes later, the pod was surrounded by most of the PD and Sheriff’s Office, including the Sheriff and Chief, while they geared up. 

Gearing up included at least two pistols ―one 9mm and one snub-nose .38― several knives ―one K-bar and at least three throwers― handcuffs, and radio/earpiece. Just to be different, Tony included a couple of balls of C-4, a length of det cord, and a hot box― the device needed to set it off.

One of the PD officers offered, “Um ... is that legal?”

Tony grinned. “I’m certified as an Explosive Ordinance Disposal Officer and Demolitions Expert. So, yeah, I’m legal.” 

Remy smirked and remarked, “Now me, I’m munitions. Weapons and their ammo. Reloading, that sort of thing.”

Gibbs added his half smile to the mix and said, “I’m a sniper. Marine Scout Sniper to be exact. Retired.”

Cosmo shook his head at that. “Reserve. But ... you can take the man out of the Corps but you can’t take the Corps out of the man.”

Gibbs murmured, “Ooo-rah,” then went back to stuffing magazines into odd places. 

Once they were done, they inspected each other for bulges. The combined locals eyed them like they were all crazy. The Sheriff said, “Remind me not to piss y’all off.”

Chief Thorogood eyed Tim, who was now armed to the teeth, with two holdouts and half a dozen throwing knives stashed here and there. “Ok. I have to ask how the hell you managed to get run over.”

Tim shrugged. “They ran; I wasn’t armed, so I let them the fuck go and headed for my car. They decided to run me the fuck over. Asshats.”

The chief nodded. “Well, fuck. Find these bastards and arrest their damn asses.”

Gibbs replied, “We’re workin’ on it. Anyone have any idea how many there are? That’d be a big help.”

One of the Sheriff’s Deputies said, “I’ve seen four that I’m sure of. Benny’s been doin’ Identikits of everyone we’re sure belongs to that bunch. Benny?”

Benny produced a folder. “I brought this along. There’s fifteen of ‘em, best I can tell. Any more and we’d have major trouble. I think they’re a bunch a’ foreign wanna-be’s who got run out a’ their own territory by a bigger fish.”

Tony nodded at Gibbs. “See? Told you someone knew more than they were sayin’. And I’m not sayin’ anyone’s holdin’ out on purpose. Just mostly you don’t know what’s important an’ what’s not.”

Remy added, “We’re used to dealing with gangs and terrorists, so we know what to look for, but, here? We don’t know where. That’s why it’s so important to work well with locals.”

Gibbs blushed slightly. Tony smacked him on the shoulder. “Deal. Jerk.”

Gibbs smacked him back. “Am. Bitch.”

Benny shook his head. “We’ve been workin’ on ‘kit pictures for quite a while. It’s hard when you’re not sure how many people you’re dealin’ with. But we got results. Which we’re now turnin’ over to you.”

Tony gave the man a genuine smile and said, “Thanks. That’s a real help. Are you sure about the number of men who attacked Tim?”

“No. But it can’t be more than five or six. I’m thinkin’ five because that’s how many people that crew cab truck’ll hold.”

They went over everything, men wandering in and out as duty called or someone wanted to ask a question. No one complained about the boring fact-checking and cross-checking. This was the meat and potatoes of police work. 

Tim called everyone’s attention to the time, and they broke up for lunch.

Sam immediately said, “Special Agent DiNozzo, we can take my truck. It’s a bit less official-looking than that ... thing you’re driving.”

Tony grinned, “Call me AJ. Thanks for the ride.”

“Welcome.”

They walked out shoulder to shoulder to get into Sam’s Ford 2500.

As they were getting settled, Sam said, “SEAL, huh. Y’all as good as they say?”

Tony smirked at him. “We’re better. We’re just too modest to say so.”

Sam snickered, “Okay. Well, Y’all take care. I don’t like these guys. They’re desperate.”

Tony shrugged. “We’re always careful.”

They were now at Mary’s, and Tony offered, “You sure this place isn’t called Mom’s?

Sam frowned, “Yeah, I’m sure. why.”

“Heinlein said, ages ago, ‘Never eat in a restaurant named Mom’s. Never play cards with a man named Doc. And never buy a car from Honest Anyone.’ And this place looks like it should be called Mom’s.”

The bar and grill was properly what used to be called a roadhouse. It was a steel-sided building set back from the road about forty feet, just enough to accommodate the gravel parking lot. Tony made a quick detour to smell the back and check out the back door. The smells from the kitchen were all savory and clean. The back door was locked ―he checked― and the dumpster newly emptied. 

“What was that about?” Sam eyed Tony, puzzled.

“I always check out the back. You can tell a lot about a restaurant by the back, despite the fact that the Rocket fooled me.” Tony grimaced and rubbed his stomach.

“Oh, man. That was a dirty trick. Someone should have warned you about the Rocket. That place only passes its checks by three or four points. No one eats there. I mean, no one with taste buds.” Sam grimaced back then said, “But Mary’s is neat, clean, and decent. It’s old-fashioned Southern food, no Fru-fru. Taters an’ grits an’ gravy.”

They entered, and Tony was pleased to see that there was a large table right down the middle of the room. It was big enough to seat twenty people, and they didn’t even have to be friendly. 

Tony and Sam took seats at one end of the table, across from each other. They were soon greeted with a cheery, “Sam! Haven’t seen you in a ‘coon’s age. An’ who’s this handsome thing?”

Sam grinned. “Tammy. Saw you in church last week, you big fake. This is AJ DiNozzo. Friend.”

Tammy winked at Tony. “Don’t believe a thing Samuel tells you. Menu?”

Tony grinned then said, “What’s the special?”

“Chicken fried steak on a bed of grits, egg on top, smothered in pepper gravy. Greens with bacon, and okra.” She smirked a bit, “The gravy is from scratch, none of that white wallpaper paste from a bag for us.”

“How do you make your gravy?” Tony was always interested in new recipes.

“Well, start with a blond roux, add a bit of cream so it doesn’t lump, then add milk real slow until it’s the consistency of double heavy cream then pepper the hell out a’ it. Let it simmer real slow.”

Tony groaned. “Sounds really good. Pie?”

Tammy nodded. “Apple, peach, cherry, rhubarb/ strawberry, banana cream, and key lime. Don’t recommend that, the filling’s from a box.”

Tony exchanged ‘ugh’ face with Sam. “Believe I’ll have apple.”

“Okay. An’ I know Sam’ll want peach. I’ll put aside a slice each so it’ll be there. Coffee?”

“You know it.” Tony gave Tammy a sunny smile and watched in appreciation as she sauntered away.

“She’s married.” Sam frowned after Tammy.

“I know. Saw the mark where she took her ring off. Just a bit of flirtation to ... grease the wheels.”

Sam relaxed. “Okay. Don’t know why she does that.”

“Me neither. But ... I’m a natural flirt ... do it without even realizing. Boss is always on me about it. I’m really starting to break the habit.”

Tammy returned with coffee and what she called ‘fixin’s’, packets of sugar and cups of creamer. “There y’all go. I’m off shift in five minutes, so Rebecca will be your server. Bye. Have a good ‘un.”

As Tammy left, half a dozen men clattered in. She yelled, “You heathens settle down, we got new people in. You’ll scare ‘em half to death.” The last man held the door for her, so she went on out. They could hear her call from the parking lot. “You take your damn hats off at the table.” 

There was some laughter from the men as they all took their hats off before they sat down. Some of the men folded them up and stuck them in a pocket, others hung them off the back of their ladder-back chairs.

Rebecca showed up with a smile. “I’m not even going to bother asking. Y’all always take the special so ... coffee?” She filled the upturned cups and asked the rest, “Tea? Sweet or plain?” Since they all wanted sweet she just brought glasses filled with ice and a pitcher, saying, “Fill your own. Food’ll be up soon.”

Tony nodded to the man across from him. He was obviously a farmer so he said, “Weather doin’ the crops good?”

“Some. Could do with a bit of rain soon. Got the beans in an’ corn’s up.” The man took a swallow of his coffee.

Sam added, “Wheat season’s lookin’ good. Maybe?”

Another man agreed. “Yup. With rain forecast and ground ready, it does look good.”

“Truck gardens are doin’ well. I had to water a bit early on, but things are all good.” The speaker looked very satisfied with himself. “An’ I brought in some heirloom ‘maters.”

Rebecca pitched in. “Yeah. An’ we’re makin’ that Eye-talian salad thing with cheese and basil. Anyone?”

Tony held up his hand, even as he winced at her pronunciation of Italian. “I’ll have some.”

Then Sam held up his hand as did most of the locals.

Sam dropped the first question into the group. “You open your stand yet, Fred?”

Fred, the man with the tomatoes, shook his head. “No, and when I do, I’m movin’ it. Those Northerners moved in on my spot an’ tore down my shack.”

Sam shook his head. “Well, shit. You should report that. No reason they can’t go some ‘ers else.”

“I tol’ ‘em that. But they said I had to pay rent or move. Not payin’ ‘em for county property. I’ll just move the stand to my frontage. Emmy has been sayin’ I need to for years. Ol’ habits, I guess.”

Tony agreed, “They do die hard, don’t they?”

Tony looked around, noticing the whole group of locals had that slightly hostile look of people expecting one thing and hoping for another. He took his badge off his belt and put it on the table. “We’re lookin’ for them. Tim is a member of my team. Intel would be welcome.”

Rebecca came to the table with a huge tray. “Okay, here we go, just pass ‘em down please.”

She handed plates to the end man on each side, alternating between the sides, the head of table passed plates down until everyone had one. She tucked her tray under her arm and trotted off to return almost at once with salad plates full of purple tomatoes, onions, and chunks of homemade mozzarella cheese drizzled with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, and sprinkled with chopped fresh basil. She passed that out herself, then left.

Tony eyed the plate full of food with pleasure. He was used to chicken fried steak being the size of his palm with a drizzle of gloppy gravy on top. This steak was easily the size of a salad plate, on a bed of cheesy grits, topped with smooth creamy gravy and a sunny-side-up egg. The greens were served with crumbled, crispy bacon on top and the okra was dipped in beer batter, then fried. Rebecca also put a platter of fresh rolls on the table, ordering, “Y’all share. Hear?” The butter was in a huge crock with a butter knife stuck in it.

Tony sighed, “Man, this all looks great.” He cut a bite and chewed it, savoring the peppery gravy. “Yeah, that’s the stuff.” He returned to his plate and had half his food eaten before anyone tried to talk; all that anyone could hear was the sound of cutlery tapping on plates.

Finally, a man down the table said, “You lookin’ to arrest those guys?”

Tony nodded, “Assault on a Federal Officer, Hit and Run. Anything else we can figure out. Like to take them out of your hair.”

“Wish you would. There’s an old loggin’ road that a lot of us used to use for a short cut. They’ve taken that area over an’ blocked it off with some sort a’ thing made of sharpened three-inch stakes all wired together into X’s. Took a shot at one of the kids went to look at it.”

Sam scowled and demanded, “When was this? Did anyone report it?”

“Yesterday. Kid went in to report it this morning.”

Tony frowned at his forkful of tomatoes. “You have any idea where they’re living?”

There was some looking back and forth then an older man at the far end of the table offered, “Ol’ still site up there. Small cabin ... mostly tumbledown. And a shed. I know exactly where it is. I could maybe take you in.” He thought for a moment. “It’s down the road from Loyd’s place a bit. Did notice that a couple a’ cars left this morning early and went straight to the highway and back up Northerly.”

Tony thought about that. “I’d rather you come down to the Station and show us where it is on a map. Don’t like the idea of you gettin’ shot at.”

The man chuckled. “Won’t be the first time. ‘Nam cured me of bein’ gun shy.”

Tony shook his head. “Still don’t like it. You come in. Okay?”

The man just shrugged and said, “Okay. After lunch, maybe.”

Tony just grinned then went back to his plate.

.

While Tony and Sam were at Mary’s, the rest of the Pod went to eat at Mom’s. It turned out to be a fairly decent place, if uninspired. The place was crowded with regulars, and the whole Pod eavesdropped shamelessly. They found out that none of the locals cared who they were or where they were from; they just wanted the Northerners gone, and they didn’t care who did it.

They also heard that there was some movement to establish a vigilante group to deal with them if one more girl was “annoyed” by any of the men. Gibbs made a note to warn the Sheriff and the Chief. He and Tim exchanged looks. Gibbs made a signal that they needed to wind up and leave; people were starting to look their way more than he liked.

They held up when an older man stopped at their table, sat down, and said, “I hear someone wanted to talk to me. I’m Jake Killian, the owner and bartender at the Pool Que. So?”

Gibbs nodded. “Jethro Gibbs. I did, Jake. Hear you’re having a lot of trouble with those ... I believe you’re calling them the Northerners?”

“Everyone on that block is. They wander in, scare off payin’ customers, break shit, then offer to protect us from trouble ... for a fee. I’m closin’ the bar for the next two weeks. Don’t expect to come home to windows.”

Gibbs frowned. “Lettin’ them run you out?”

“Naw. I always go visit my sister in Florida about this time. Her birthday, my birthday and her son’s. All within four days of each other. We pick a day, have a party. There’s several cousins in the same week so we have a do. Not lettin’ them spoil my vacation. Insurance will take care of the glass.” He paused as the waitress set him a cup of coffee. “Might board up everything before I go. Give ‘em a hint.”

Cosmo nodded. “You let us know. We’ll come help.”

“Well, thank ‘e kindly. Might ask the Chief for a few drive-bys around 1am.”

Dean offered. “That’d help some. But ... we might stake it out. We’re after ‘em, big time. Tim’s our bud.”

Jake shook his head. “Military?”

“SEAL. NCIS. Marine. We’re all friends.” Remy frowned at his coffee cup, which was empty.

Jake noticed and waved a hand at the bus boy. “Refill, please.” He nodded at the boy. “Think they’re tryin’ to give us some privacy.”

“Probably right,” Gibbs agreed. “You got names on any of those jackwads?”

“Do you one better.” He passed over a disk. “Got footage from my hidden security camera. There’s also images of signatures on credit card slips. And the VIN off that junker truck of theirs. Hope that helps.”

Tim took the disk from Gibbs. “I’ll get right on this. This is gonna be a great help. Thanks.”

Jake nodded at Tim. “Glad to see you up an’ around. And I sure am sorry about your troubles.”

Tim smiled at him. “Wasn’t your fault. But thanks.”

Jake picked up his cup and ambled off to another table, settled there, and began to talk with one of the men there. Everyone else in the room more or less ignored the team, so they got up, paid, and left.

They got back to the station the same time as Sam and Tony. Tim set up a computer to read the disk, captured stills of all five men, and started running them. He also ran the signatures, credit card numbers, and VIN. It always took several hours to run things through all the data bases, despite what TV shows depicted, so Tim suggested that they leave the computers to run. He also said that the credit cards showed ten different signatures. He was running them all.

Gibbs left word with the desk sergeant that they were running searches, and the three computers were not to be disturbed. The sergeant gave him a key and said, “Lock the door, put a sign on it, an’ pray.” Gibbs took the key, set a sign, then put a note on the fridge in the break room. 

They were leaving early enough that they knew they were going to have to attend a class. Gibbs was smart and knew that they were at the spa on sufferance and didn’t want to cause the staff more trouble than necessary. He wondered if he could get out of a class by telling the front desk that they were doing PT.

Tony plopped down beside him and said, “I just called the service desk at the spa. We were supposed to have a class this afternoon, to cover the requirements for staying there, but the instructor sprained her ankle. I told the attendant that I’d lead a PT class. She recommended swimming.” Tony snickered, “We’re gonna snorkel across the lake. It’s only about three miles, round trip.”

Gibbs eyed him for a moment then said, “Better keep that shit to yourself or you’re gonna put up with pissin’ and moanin’ out the ass.”

Tony smirked at him. “You’re not?”

“Would it do any good?” Gibbs’ lips twisted in that wry smile of his.

“Wha’d you think?” 

“Think I’ll save my breath to cool my soup.”

Tony went away to hide until he was called to go home.

.

Chapter 6

On the way home, Tony announced that they were going to swim across the small lake behind the social center. This was greeted with pissing and moaning all ‘round.

Finally, near the gates of the spa, Tony barked, “Shut the fuck up. I’m lettin’ you use fins and snorkels; if there’s too much more bitching I’ll make you do without.”

After that snarled comment they shut up. The second they got to the cottage, everyone hurried to find fins, snorkels, and, most importantly, trunks. It was only a short walk to the lake from their cottage… although Tony made them run it carrying all their gear.

This lake was one of those FTA things that had been half-abandoned until the spa took the dam over, repaired it, and was now using the lake for swimming, canoeing, kayaking, and water skiing. The dock they ran to was obviously meant for diving from, as there was actually a springboard mounted at the end, and an area about the size of a football field was roped off with buoys to keep out motorized boats.

Since Tony was working on skills, he was allowing snorkels and fins. Everyone settled on the dock to put on their fins. They had swim masks with snorkels, but as it wasn’t safe to dive with a snorkel in your mouth they left them on the dock.

They dove into the lake from the dock and found that Tony hadn’t told them one important thing: it was spring fed. This meant that it was cold.

Gibbs surfaced and yelled, “AJ, you fucking fucker. The damn lake is fuckin’ cold as a witch’s ...” Dean immediately dunked him, afraid he was going to use one of the few words that none of them used.

Gibbs spluttered as he surfaced, “Heart, you asshole.”

There was a lot more cussing as the rest of the team came to the surface and all yelled some version of Gibbs’ complaint. Tony just barked, “Masks on! Now!” He’d already gotten his mask on while everyone else was bitching. He wasn’t about to let it be known that he was just as cold as they were.

They were getting masks on when a cheerful girl in a polo shirt with the spa logo on it paddled up in a kayak. “Hi! I’m Jillian, your lifeguard. The desk sent me down. No one is allowed to swim without a guard on duty. I’ll just paddle around and keep an eye on you.” She smiled in the chipper way that all the spa help seemed to have.

Gibbs nodded to her and swam off to dunk Tony. “Ok, asshat, what’s the landmark?” Tony hadn’t pointed it out before because what they could see from the dock was completely different from what they could see from the water.

Tony surfaced, then looked across the lake. He pointed to a large, bleached, dead tree. “That dead oak.”

Jillian was surprised and a bit shocked to see her charges take off across the ‘safe zone’ almost faster than she could paddle. She took off after them, wondering if she should warn them not to leave the safe zone. She decided that they probably knew what they were doing as it looked like they were going to swim for conditioning instead of fun.

Tony led the way at his top speed, which was right at 2.6 knots. Considering that Olympic swimmers don’t swim that fast, this was good. It also meant that the SEALs left the others behind by quite a bit. Gibbs’ swimming style could be described as “Marine barge,” while Tim and Jimmy were more “public pool.” All three of them knew the combat crawl and used that exclusively, but none of them had much experience in finning, which used a flutter-kick. Tony was working on changing that as quickly as he could.

He reached the mark, then turned around to harass his team into swimming faster. It was amazing that he could swim nearly two miles then turn around, catch up to his team, and simultaneously tread water and scream at them.

He caught Tim resting. “Damn it, Digimon, get swimmin’. You’re not gonna gain endurance if you stop every ten feet. Move it! Move it!” 

Then he yelled at Gibbs. “Jet, put your damn face in the water. That’s what the fuckin’ mask is for. That tube isn’t a bite stick, breathe through it. Idiot.”

Jimmy even got it. “Doc! For God’s sake! Flutter-kick. You’re not ready for a dolphin yet.”

Tony swam up to the front to re-establish the speed, then floated upright while he watched the other SEALs swim by. “Keep up the pace! Stop loafing. Move it!”

Jillian even got a share. “Hey, Jill, fuckin’ stop splashin’ like a flounder. Keep up.”

They made it to the mark in good time, despite Tony’s screamed opinion, turned, and began the swim back. On the way back Tony really put pressure on them, demanding that they keep their faces in the water and use the snorkel exclusively. This was actually better than trading off with breathing through their noses. It was, however, counter intuitive. He really laid into Gibbs, yelling, “Jet! Breathe through the damn snorkel! You wanna fuckin’ choke on water, do it on your own damn time.” He did a bit of yelling at the SEALs, but mostly at Gibbs and Tim. Jimmy learned very quickly and didn’t seem to have much trouble discarding bad habits and building new. Tony thought it was because interns and resident doctors had to learn on the fly. Sink or swim.

In this case it was swim like mad because a rabid AJ was barking at your heels and screaming his head off. How he could do that and out-swim them was anyone’s guess.

Jillian was keeping up and had stopped splashing with her paddle. She also got a bit of grief on the way back as she wobbled back and forth in her path. “Jillian, you’re gonna need to learn to cut a straight path. You’re not a water bug, straighten out.” She sighed and tried to do better. Her teacher was always on her about the same thing.

When they reached the dock, they all scrambled out, shivering. Tony moaned, “Fuckin’ lake’s so damn cold. My balls have crawled back into my gut.”

Gibbs smacked him on the shoulder. “Jerk. Perfectly good, heated pool at the center.”

Tony shrugged through his shivering. “Yeah, there is. You actually expect to run a mission in pool-temp water? Anywhere? Any time?”

Gibbs allowed, “Probably not. Still.” He flinched a bit as someone dropped a heated towel over his shoulders. “Thanks.”

They were then swarmed by spa personnel who handed them warm drinks and swathed them in towels. One of the girls actually scolded them, saying, “Really! If you’d asked, we’d have told you that lake is cold as a ... I’m not sure what. Now you drink that hot coffee right up before you get a cold or something.”

Tony moaned in pleasure. “I’d love it if we got something like this after a mission.”

Remy agreed, adding, “Yeah, most times all we get is a cup of cold coffee, an energy bar, and a cold shower. If we’re lucky.”

One of the boys exclaimed, “That’s so wrong. You should at least get a lukewarm shower and hot coffee.”

Dean laughed. “True, but it’s the Navy; what can you say?”

The boy offered, “Quite a bit, but I doubt it’d do more than get you a write-up.” He grinned. “Uncle’s in the Coast Guard.”

They were quickly bundled into golf carts and whizzed away to the cottage to take hot showers and put on BDUs.

They settled in the living room to discuss their swim, the case, and how to proceed with the search.

Gibbs frowned into his third cup of coffee. “I think ... our best bet is native guides.”

Tony blinked for a moment then snarled, “Dumb, I’m so dumb. Of course! Who better to find someone than a native. But who?”

Dean offered. “No LEO. Someone else.”

Remy stretched then said, “Moonshiner. Ol’ one. If we can find one inclined to cooperate.”

Cosmo agreed. “Might just hang around here and there. Hope one comes out of the woodwork.”

Jimmy frowned in thought then said, “Well, I could go to the hospital and nose around? Maybe?” 

Gibbs nodded to him. “Good idea.”

Tim thought then produced a tablet. “I’ll check arrest records for illegal still seizures.”

Tony grinned, “Great idea. And vehicle seizures. If they got caught making a run, they forfeit their car.” He snapped his fingers. “And there was a guy at Mom’s ... said he’d come in. He knew where an old still cabin was, said that some of the men were holed up there.”

Gibbs pulled out his phone. “I’ll call the sheriff on his personal phone. See what he has to say.”

They bent themselves to their chores, Tony checked with Jake Killian, Tim did computer searches for seizures of still equipment, arrests for moonshining, and vehicle seizures, Jimmy and Dean went out to hang around the hospital for a bit while the rest cleaned the cottage, equipment, and vehicles. Remy gathered up all their dirty clothing and started some laundry. Since the cottage was meant for staff, it had a washer and dryer.

They spent most of the night examining satellite pictures of the area, looking for clues; paths that went nowhere, odd buildings with no visible access roads, and clearings with new cuts.

Jimmy and Dean returned at shift change, leaving the hospital at 2230 to avoid the 2300 shift rush. They both handed Gibbs a handful of notes then went to bed. Everyone else was either in bed or headed that way, as it was going to be an early morning. Tony stayed up later, of course; he still didn’t sleep more than five hours a night, as any attempt to sleep more usually left him groggy and irritable, or led to screaming nightmares. 

Tony checked on everyone about 0200, then went to bed himself. He’d be awake by 0730 at the latest. He did like sleeping in from time to time, usually when he’d had a series of bad nights in a row or had been working harder than usual.

 

Once he was up, Tony started coffee in the industrial Bunn. When the first pot was brewed, he poured it into a pump pot and started another. Gibbs wandered in, got a cup then asked, “We runnin’ this morning?”

Tony grumbled, “We need to do something. Weights, maybe.”

Gibbs nodded. “We need to get back on track, and weights would be the next thing. But ... run then weights?”

“Yeah. So ... no food. Someone’ll puke. An’ I’m not cleanin’ up. The spa staff wouldn’t appreciate it either.” Tony dished up some yoghurt, eyed it, then sighed. “And I was really looking forward to eggs and bacon.”

Gibbs frowned. “After exercise.”

Remy ambled in, grabbed Gibbs’ coffee, and slugged it down. “What after exercise?”

“Breakfast. Bacon and eggs, toast, good coffee. That.” Tony snagged the pot he was waiting for, poured it into the pressure pot, and started to make another. Remy took it from him, as he was already on his feet.

By the time everyone was up, the pump pot was full, and the Bunn was just dripping the last drops into the pot. They all settled in for a quick cup… or three or four, then dressed in Navy PT uniform. As they were testing the new-issue sweatsuit style, they were all dressed in baggy sweat pants in navy blue with a yellow stripe down the outside of the leg, a short sleeved t-shirt in white with the Navy logo, and crosstrainers of choice. They left the jackets behind, as it was way too hot for them. Gibbs dressed in the Marine version of the same uniform, which the Navy had shamelessly copied, except his pants had crimson stripes.

They took off at a hard trot. Tony was really putting pressure on them this morning, as they weren’t doing a ruck run. He kept snapping and snarling at them to “bunch up” so he could track them all. This was counter to all their training, as they were taught to string out and break line to present individual targets instead of a group.

As they were running the established Black trail that ran around the property, they were joined by various people: members of staff or clients who just wanted to run with someone. They formed a rather impressive group by the time they reached the three-mile mark. By that time Tony, Gibbs, and Remy were moving up and down the line, keeping people motivated… mostly by screaming at them to “Stop slacking! Move it! You wanna run with the big dogs? Step it up!”

By five miles, people were dropping out. Tony called a few on it, but, if they had done their best, he yelled, “Good work. Cool down.” The ones who gave up got a contemptuous look, but that was all. If you wanted to ring out, fine.

By the six-mile mark, the only non-Pod members were a few of the staff members who were obviously in very good shape. There were also three or four who were clients, Tony wondered if they were preparing for a marathon.

By eight there were three high-school-age runners and the Pod. Tony ragged on them just as much as he did his men. 

“Ten-mile mark. Cool down.” Tony stopped the group at the ten-mile marker, which was right in front of the center. “I do not want anyone stiff.” He looked the high-school group over. “That includes you lugnuts.” One of the runners grinned. “Don’t care, male or female, you’re a lugnut. Walk.” All of that group headed into the center walking slowly and stretching, except for one.

This young man walked with the Pod for a while then approached Gibbs. “I hear y’all wanna talk to a ‘shiner?”

“We do. Whoever it is isn’t in any trouble. We’re lookin’ for intel.” Gibbs paced the young man as he talked.

“Okay. Well, my name’s Hank Loyd. My Gran’pappy ... he’s a ‘shiner. Too old to run a still, but he’s still spry in other ways. He’s been bitchin’ about some snot-nosed young ‘uns takin over his ...” he grinned, “summer house. Y’all come down to my place an’ talk to him.” He handed over a sheet of paper. “Map an’ directions. If you get lost, just ask for directions to the ol’ Loyd place. See you.” He trotted off to join his friends.

“Well,” Gibbs handed the paper to Tony. “Take a look.”

Tony eyed the map. “Hell on a mop-stick. This is out in the middle of East Bumfuck County.”

“Yeah. Bet the ol’ geezer knows where those jerks are. Just ... no one’s listenin’ to him.”

Remy took the map and agreed. “He’s got eyes ... probably walks the woods a lot. So ... he knows but he’s not talkin’ to the sheriff or PD. Has a hate on for ‘em or I miss my guess. Not that unusual with ol’ ‘shiners. Had enough trouble with ‘em that he doesn’t trust ‘em.”

Dean ambled over. “Best to have breakfast then go see him.”

So they went into the center to find breakfast. The cook at the main restaurant was taking a short break between the early rush and the later one. He noticed them bunched up and called, “Hey! Come in and have some real food. I’ll make you up whatever you like.”

Remy eyed the man and decided. “I’ll give it a chance.”

They entered the one restaurant they hadn’t been in yet and were pleased to see that the decor was a sort of nondescript Middle American place. They’d been worried that it would be what Cosmo disparagingly called “Tree-hugging, Squirrel-kissing, Pseudo-natural weird.” They seated themselves at a round table, realized that it was way too small and looked for something bigger. The only waitress on duty came over to look.

“Well, that’s not gonna do. You give me a hand and we’ll put three tables for four together. That’ll give you plenty of elbow room and chairs. My name’s Nancy.” She grinned, “And I’ll be your server today.” She shook her head. “Don’t know why they insist on that. What the hell else am I standin’ at your table for?” It didn’t take them long to get the tables together, extra chairs over to the side and water and menus at hand. Nancy nodded her satisfaction and told them, “Thanks for the help. You wouldn’t believe the number of people who’ll just stand there and let me wrestle. Menus on the table. Water pitcher on the end table. I’ll bring glasses and coffee in a sec.” She trotted off to get the coffee pot.

Since the setups were already on the table, Cosmo took the water pitcher, filled his glass, then handed it on to Tim, who did the same, then passed it again. It wasn’t long before everyone had water, and Nancy returned with the coffee pot. She started to fill cups, but Gibbs just took the pot from her hand. “Here. No sense in you runnin’ ‘round the table. We’ll just pass it on.” 

Nancy smiled. “Ol’ military?” Gibbs nodded. “What branch?”

“Marine.” Gibbs didn’t look up from the menu so he didn’t notice her smile widen.

“My Daddy was a Marine. He’s retired now and runs a lumber yard. Semper Fi.”

Gibbs looked up, grinned that easy grin that made everyone smile back, then said, “Ooo-rah.”

“Well, ready to order, or would you like more time?”

Cosmo replied, “Ready to order, and the first order is ... more coffee. I’m dry.”

Nancy eyed the rank of empty cups. “I swear ... you’re all asbestos-mouthed. While you’re finalizing your decisions, I’ll get more coffee.”

Dean called after her, “And start at least two more pots.”

“Will do!” She disappeared into the drink station off to the side of the main room. They could hear her clattering around, making more coffee and another pitcher of water.

While she was doing that, the Pod all decided on the Farmer’s Breakfast: eggs, bacon, sausage, potato of choice, grits, biscuits, and juice. 

Nancy came back with more coffee, water, and the offer of a pitcher of juice. “All y’all have to do is decide what kind.”

Gibbs eyed the table, then nodded to Tony. Tony grinned. “Okay ... vote: Apple?” the groans proved that no one wanted that. “Pineapple?” This was granted the sneers it deserved. “Okay, okay. Orange?” Hands went up all over the table. “Orange it is. Now, who wants number one?” As this was toast, coffee, juice, and cereal, that got him booed. “Ok. I’ll skip two and three. Who the hell eats just grits, or grits and gravy? Ick. Number four?” Everyone voted for that as it was the Farmer’s Breakfast. 

Nancy looked the table over. “Unless everyone wants different eggs and potatoes, we could give you a deal on family style?”

Tony frowned at that, as everyone usually wanted different eggs. “Okay. Vote again. Over easy?” No takers. “Poached?” Tim actually threw a waded-up napkin at him. The only one of them who regularly ate poached eggs was Ducky. “Scrambled? Just for convenience sake?” Hands went up. “Scrambled, but make sure they’re soft.”

Nancy wrote that down. “Potato?”

“Cottage fry?” Hands went up. “Okay, got that?”

“Yup. And we’ll put up a plate of whole wheat toast and another of biscuits.

Remy nodded to Nancy and said, “Thanks, darlin’. Appreciate it.”

Nancy nodded back. “Y’all not from around here. Most a’ ya are Northerners. You?”

“Louisiana. Down below New Orleans.” He shrugged, “But I been up North long time.”

“Oh. Why?”

“Military. Navy.”

Nancy eyed the table. “How many of you are current?” Hands went up. “Okay. Support personnel?”

This brought about an introduction which made Nancy goggle a bit. “Wow. SEALs and NCIS? You here about that guy that got beat up?”

Tim raised his hand. “I’m okay. Most of the bruising has even faded, thanks to some cream from the health food store in town.”

“Well, I’m glad of that. You do realize that those jack ...” Nancy caught her manager’s eye. “... ahem ... jerks aren’t local?” 

Gibbs nodded. “We do.” He eyed the manager. “You better turn in our orders.”

“Yeah. Michaels is a good guy, but we’re gettin’ busy again.” Nancy hurried off to turn in her order.

The manager was at their table within five minutes. “Excuse me. Nancy’s a good worker and ... she asked if we could do family style, as you’d all ordered the same thing. I thought I’d just make sure that was acceptable.”

Gibbs nodded. “That’s fine. Just make sure there’s plenty. We’re all big eaters. Burn it off fast.”

Mr. Mason eyed the group for a moment, realized who they were, and said, “I will. And thank you for your service.” He walked away before anyone could say anything, found Nancy, and told her that all drinks for the table were free. She just nodded, made a note on her copy of their ticket, and had him initial it.

The food was soon out, and it was great. The sausage wasn’t greasy, nor were the potatoes; the bacon was a bit soft for them, but they didn’t say anything. The eggs were soft and had bits of herbs in them. The grits were nicely creamy, and the big serving bowl was partnered with smaller bowls and a jug of cream. The platters were warm, but not so hot as to cause problems with passing. 

Everyone filled their plates and dug in. They were all happy with the food and finished everything in short order. Since the platters were big and piled high, they passed on seconds; instead they asked for their check, paid, and took off for their cars.

Nancy was pleased with her tip, and the cook was pleased that he got a compliment from them via the manager.

.

As they drove out into the country, Tim kept a map on his tablet. Tony bitched about the road. Dean remarked that they were far from ‘civilization’. Everyone else just kept quiet, except for Gibbs and Remy, who stayed on the phone to keep both cars together.

It didn’t take them that long to find the house. It was a small, old-fashioned “shotgun shack,” but well-maintained, with a neatly mown lawn and a well-weeded truck garden. They parked just outside the gate and gathered in front of it. Remy advised, “Might be best if I went up first. Don’t want to put the ol’ boy off with a crowd first thing.”

They agreed that that might be best, so Remy opened the gate and walked up the crushed gravel path to the front door. He was amused to see that the doorbell was a small recess bell, rung by pulling a chain. He pulled the chain and waited.

It only took a moment for a voice to call, “Well? Waitin’ on a invite? Come in.”

Remy opened the screen door and called back, “Was. Don’t know y’all well. Got people wit’ me.” He took off his boots, then ambled back to the huge farm kitchen that occupied a good quarter of the house, as it stretched across the full width of the back. He noticed that the living room was neat, clean, and bright, if a bit worn.

“You got people? Bring ‘em. No sense in them hangin’ ‘round the gate.” The old man was bright-eyed and vigorous. Remy judged him to be in his late 80’s.

“Ok, I’ll give ‘em a holler.” Remy suited actions to words, returning to the front and yelling. “Y’all come on in. Man said.”

They all trooped in, leaving their boots at the door, as was polite around here. Remy introduced them all, then waited.

Mr. Loyd wasn’t having any of that. “Well? Sit the hell down. Wear y’selves out early. Coffee?”

They all agreed that coffee would be good. Mr. Loyd pointed to a Mr. Coffee. “Some’un ‘ll have t’ make it. Don’t know how that damn thing works. I drink b’iled. Wife went inta town for vittles. Gran’son’s at work. He give you the note?”

“Yes, sir. Thanks for talkin’ to us.” Gibbs took point, as the old man seemed to be his sort.

“Don’t sir me. I worked for a livin’.” He grinned. “An’ any idjit says ’shinin’ is easy, never did it. So,” He sipped his coffee. “You got questions. Ask.”

Gibbs watched as Dean started the coffee, gathering his thoughts. He decided to just lay things out. “Those five men who attacked Tim are holed up in the park somewhere. We think they’re using hidden roads to get in and out without being seen. You’re an old moonshiner, so you know this area well. We were hoping you might have some idea where they are. Do you?”

Mr. Loyd thought for a bit. He finally said, “I might do. An’ stop callin’ me sir or Mister. Keep lookin’ for my Da. I’m James. Now ... here’s what I know. I got a cabin up Crain Crick a bit. An’ a ol’ still cabin just a bit down from that.” He took a swallow of his coffee, “So anyways ... I go up t’ hunt ... good fishin’ about a stone throw away too. But last time I went up, a bunch a’ city-come stains run me off. I called the sheriff, but ... since it’s a national park, he don’t got no jurisdiction, an’ them park police ... they don’t care. Never mind I pay my due every year like clockwork.” He smirked a bit. “That still cabin. It fell down couple a’ days ago, an’ all the loonies in it took off for parts unknown. I could take you up there ... providin’ you don’t crash around like a herd a’ buffalo.”

Gibbs gave the old man a wry smile. “Think we can manage to keep quiet. We just want a quick recon and get a head count. Might be just me an’ one other. AJ?”

Tony nodded. “You, and Remy or Dean. I’m gonna make arrangements for some gear.” He moved away a bit to make his call.

James eyed them. “What branch? I know you’re all some sort a’ Fed. But you’re all military, or I’m a gopher.”

Gibbs did the point and tell, ending with himself. “Marine.”

James eyed him for a moment then said, “Gunny, or I miss my guess. Well, we’ll see if a leatherneck can be quiet.”

Gibbs smirked at him and said, “Scout Sniper. I think I can manage. Wonder if an ol’ ridge runner like you served?”

“Did. An’ I don’t talk about it. Thank you.” He scowled into his coffee cup for a moment then brightened. “That pot done yet?”

Tony just got up to pour coffee around. 

They sat in silence while they drank their coffee; no one bothered to ask questions, James would explain when it was time. They soon heard a car pull into the drive, a door slammed, and a voice called, “James, you come out and help me with this.”

James got up, grumbled a bit and headed out, followed by the whole Pod. It didn’t take them long to be introduced to Earlean, a spry, white-haired woman of an age with James. She just rolled her eyes and started handing out bags. “You be careful with that ‘un. It’s got eggs.” She handed that one to James, shut the back of her van and ordered, “Well? Stand around long enough, you’ll grow moss. Get inside with that.”

They headed back to the house but stopped at the porch as they all had their boots on. Earlean poked Gibbs in the back. “In. Never mind the boots, I’ve got to mop anyway.” So they all carried their burdens into the kitchen and put them where she told them to. She looked around. “I see some’un had the good sense to make coffee.” She took the last of the pot, asking, “Anyone else?”

Tony replied for everyone. “No thanks, ma’am. Mr Loyd is gonna take a couple of us up to check out the squatters. The rest of us are going back to town and get things ready.”

Earlean gave him a look then nodded. “Well, that’s good. It’s near huntin’ season, an’ I don’t fancy the walk up from here. An’ I miss my fishin’ hole.” She wandered over to the kitchen table to start putting away her groceries, putting her coffee down on the table. “Well? Hopin’ t’ take root?”

Gibbs chuckled. “No ma’am. James?”

James nodded. “Yup. We better get goin’. I’ll get my stick.” He reached into the back porch and snagged a polished walking stick.

Gibbs and Remy followed James out the back door while the rest headed out the front. They managed to cram themselves into one car, so Gibbs and Remy had a ride back. As Dean grumbled, “There’s cozy, then there’s not. This is not.” He was pissed because he was relegated to the back seat, and squeezing three broad-shouldered men into a back seat meant for two was uncomfortable, to put it politely. Tim had claimed shotgun, explaining forlornly that his ribs still hurt.

Tony remarked, “I’m glad it’s only eight miles back to town.”

Dean snarled. “I am too. Cos, gimme a break, you got elbows like a two-year-old.” The argument continued, with Dean trying to get a bit of room by elbowing Cos and Jimmy. Jimmy retaliated by man-spreading, forcing Dean’s knees together. Cos swore at both of them, as their shoving had him wedged into the corner, perilously close to popping the door open.

Tony finally pulled over and yelled, “All of you get the fuck out of the damn car. Tim, you drive this to the station. Jimmy, grab your shit, too.” He opened the trunk, dragged out Jimmy’s ruck, tossed it to him, and proved that he was always prepared; everyone’s ruck was in the trunk. 

Cos whined like a girl. “Damn it, AJ, I didn’t do anything. All I wanted was them to let me breathe.”

Dean snarled, “Well, I’m in the damn middle, on the hump, and can’t move.”

Jimmy grumbled, “See what you two did. Now we’re all in the shit. Jerks.”

“Whiner.” Dean shouldered his ruck.

Cos just grabbed his ruck and stepped away to put it on. 

Tony barked, “Shut the fuck up. You fuckin’ ASVAB-waver half-wits. NOGAD if you’ve gone missish. You’re all TBIs and fuckin’ turnin’ into NUBs. Get over yourselves. Now run.” And Tony meant exactly that, barking at them until they were just short of a dead run.

Tim sighed and started the car to follow them. He decided not to; if they wanted to act like a bunch of idiots, they could just deal. He drove around them. When he reached the station he parked in front and went in. He sat down at his table and started compiling a list of the equipment he thought they might need. About thirty minutes later everyone else arrived, dusty, sweaty, and silent. Tony pulled out a chair, flopped into it and rubbed his face. “No more fuckin’ around. We clear?” They all agreed that they were indeed clear about no fucking around. “Okay. Each of you make a list of what equipment you think we need. Tim?”

“Workin’ on it now. If everyone gives me their list, I’ll make a master list and ... find it.” He went back to his work, wondering if he should take a pain killer― his ribs were aching. 

Jimmy glanced at him then rummaged in a pocket. He passed Tony a rice paper bundle. “Here.” Tony passed it on and Tim absently crunched it up, never taking his eyes off his work.

.

Chapter 7

James led the way out the back and into the woods. He ambled over a skiff of dry leaves, not making a sound. He grunted his satisfaction when both Gibbs and Remy navigated the obstacle without a crunch.

He led them through about a mile of heavy woods, then pointed to a game trail. “We’ll circle around, get behind them, and take a look-see.”

Gibbs eyed the game trail for a moment, then asked, “We be able to see a lot?” 

“Yup. Get eyes on ‘em easy. This comes out on the ridge behind the cabin. We’ll be able to see them, but they can’t see us. Too much brush an’ shit. Come on.” James led the way, walking silently through the heavy brush. The game trail was so narrow that shoulders brushed things on both sides, but no one broke a twig. It wasn’t long before they were on the ridge.

James used combat hand signs to say, “Crawl from here.”

Gibbs told Remy to take their six in ASL. Remy just nodded once and knelt to keep an eye on the back trail.

James eased to his belly and crawled under some bushes. Gibbs followed easily. It only took a few seconds to crawl to the edge of the ridge and get a good look at the cabin, which was situated in a small clearing at the bottom of the ridge. They watched for about thirty minutes, counting the men as they wandered around the clearing. They also got a good look at the truck. There were no other vehicles. They were sure as there wasn’t even a lean-to to park something in. There were, however, signs that several different vehicles had been parked around the edges of the clearing recently.

The truck was obviously not in running condition; hitting Tim had smashed in the grill. The radiator was actually pulled and propped against the porch. Gibbs now knew why they’d been least in sight since the assault; they were probably walking out one or two at a time to get supplies and try to keep the pressure on. 

Gibbs patted James on the leg to signal that he was done. They crawled back, collected Remy, and ghosted back to James’ house. 

Gibbs shook his hand at the gate. “Thanks. Really appreciate that.”

James nodded. “Welcome. Get those yahoo’s out a’ my woods. Park cops ain’t worth the powder t’ blow ‘em up.” 

Remy allowed that, “They aren’t trained. They’re more ... botanists and tourist control. We’ll deal.”

“Good.” He started for the house calling over his shoulder, “Just watch your six.”

It didn’t take them long to get on the road back to the station.

.

Tony looked over Tim’s shoulder. “List?” He put a cup of coffee down.

“Yeah. I’m workin’ on what we need. Suggestions?” Tim was sure he knew what was needed but he wasn’t taking chances on missing something. “I’ve got a list from everyone else. Remy and Gibbs need to give me theirs.”

Tony nodded. “They’re just pullin’ in now.”

In the time they’d been waiting, Tim had taken all the lists, made a spreadsheet, and started a requisition list. Everyone else was wandering around the station, befriending the officers. Tony had requested that they get out of the conference room and do something useful. In other words, stop annoying Tim so he could get his work done. No one got mad at that; it was a good idea to butter up the locals a bit. After all, they were taking over a case, invading their station, and, in general, moving in.

None of the officers seemed to mind that much. Remy even asked one older officer in the PD if he was upset. The officer replied, “Man, no. We got trained in traffic control, domestic disputes, B&Es, an’ all that shit. But gang shit an’ terrorist invasions? Not a clue. Y’all come in, polite as anything, an’ do the job for us? I’m not sayin’ a word. Mum as a nun’s hen. Sweet roll?” he offered a box of rolls, waited while Remy took one, then returned the box to his desk and went back to his report.

Remy ate his roll as he walked back to the conference room to check on Tim. Everyone was a bit skittish about leaving him alone anywhere, any time. Just nope. 

Gibbs joined Remy on his way to the conference room to report. Remy told him about the required list of equipment. Gibbs nodded. “I’ll make one up as soon as I’m done reporting.”

It didn’t take them long to give their report, draw up a map of the area, and start to plan. 

There was some question about where most of the men had gone, but Remy and Tony agreed that they’d done a runner as soon as they realized that the core group had tried to off a Fed. Tony had gotten a call from Sunshine, who’d said, “Frank called. He said that at least half the group took off a few at a time over the last three days. You scared ‘em off. The core group won’t leave, but he doesn’t know exactly why.”

Tim was all for going in at night, saying, “If we go in at night, we’ll catch them off guard. Hopefully they’ll be in bed. A couple of flash/bangs, a shot or two, and we’ll bag ‘em without anyone getting hurt.”

Gibbs agreed with Tim, as did Tony. Jimmy admitted that he was going along as medic and not much else. Remy, Dean, and Cosmo said that they were regarding this as a mission, and Tony and Remy usually planned those, so Dean and Cosmo said they were doing what they did best: sitting back and waiting for clear orders. 

Remy shrugged. “I don’ know ‘bout this. I’m used to black ops. Maybe Jet an’ AJ plan this ‘un?” 

Gibbs agreed with Remy. “Might be a good idea. We’re in law-enforcement territory, not black ops. We can’t just shoot ‘em. We need to take ‘em into custody and ... who do we turn ‘em in to?”

Tony sent Dean to see the Sheriff and ask. The Sheriff said they should turn the men over to him, and let his PA deal with the details. The Chief of Police also requested that the combined SWAT team trainees be allowed to observe.

Dean dragged them all back to the conference room and told them to sit in on planning.

It took them two hours to consider all the intel, make tentative plans, and make up an equipment list. Tim emailed it to Belt, who sent it on to the nearby Ft. Steward Army Base. The CO there had agreed to have their gear choppered over as soon as it was assembled. He gave an ETA of 1700, plus or minus 30. They would land in the clearing behind the high school. It was supposed to have been a double football/soccer field, but funding had failed.

.

The chopper circled, checking the landing spot, then settled gently onto the huge X the groundskeepers had obligingly marked using the lime they used to put the yard marks on the football field. The doors popped open, and two men jumped to the ground. They started pulling foot lockers out of the chopper and putting them to the side. Another man got out and trotted over to Tony, clipboard in hand. He tucked the clipboard under his left arm and saluted. Tony saluted in return, then took the offered clipboard. He checked the bill of lading, nodded, and signed. “Thank you, Master Sergeant.” The MSG saluted again, then nodded, turned, and went back to the chopper. They were gone in a devil of dust and field trash.

Each member of the Pod took a box and headed for the pickup that the PD had loaned them. Tony blinked; there was one more box than there were men, and it was much smaller. He dumped his box on the pickup then went back to get that one. He blinked again for a moment then grinned. He’d save this for an emergency.

When they got back to the station, every off-duty officer was hanging around, unashamedly waiting to see what equipment they had gotten.

The list was just what they usually used for a mission, but it had all the LEO’s oo-ing and aa-ing. 

ACH (Advanced Combat Helmet)-mounted Optics:  
PVS-14 - Night vision image intensification monocular

Rifle:  
SCAR - Special Operations Forces Combat Assault Rifle - 7.26x51mm - Close Quarters Combat Barrel

Pistol:  
Offered the usual Berretta M9, refused in favor of their own Sig Sauer 9mm

Armor:  
Improved Outer Tactical Vest - IOTV -

Accessories:  
flash/bang  
K-Bar knife  
sling

Mystery box:  
C-4, prima-cord, and detonation equipment

Each footlocker contained equipment for the person whose name was stenciled on it. The small box containing the C-4 was left in the trunk of one of the spa cars so as not to upset, as Tony said, the delicate sensibilities of the locals. He was actually waiting for a demand from someone to return it.

After a quick equipment check, they went back to the spa, leaving the padlocked footlockers in the conference room.   
.

They spent that evening and most of the next day doing what they usually did before a mission: lazing around. Tim finalized the mission plans, emailed them to the locals that were participating, then took a nap. He was healing well, but he still got tired easily, so he napped to be ready to take down his attackers. Tony warned him that extreme prejudice was not on.

Tim just smirked then said, “I recommended that they serve whatever sentence they’d get in Angola.”

Remy snorted then said, “Evil, man, you jus’ evil.”

“Am,” Tim agreed then wandered off for his nap.

Tony, Remy, and Gibbs wound up on the large couch, Remy and Tony head-to-tail, with Gibbs sacked out across their legs. No one would think this was comfortable, but all three men were snoring. 

Dean and Cosmo both fell asleep on the floor, while Jimmy, more sensible than they were, slept in an easy chair. 

They woke up at noon, ate something they ordered in, then went back to sleep. 

At 1500 they wandered into their rooms to dress. They dressed in MARPAT because it matched the local flora, and headed for the station.

The Sheriff and Chief of Police had told their SWAT team to observe only. But Tony intended to check all their equipment, Gibbs agreed with this, but delegated it to Tim.

They arrived to be greeted by the SWAT trainees in full gear. Tony went to talk to Sheriff Madigan, while Tim just ambled over to check equipment.

He was greeted by four men in black SWAT uniforms, complete with balaclavas. He suppressed an eye-roll firmly. He was well aware that a small department like this would not only use combined personnel, but second-hand equipment as well. As he checked the equipment, he found it to be well maintained and in good order, except for the fact that no one had a stab plate, front or back.

“Well, you’ve all taken good care of your equipment, but you really need stab plates.” He smiled at the obvious team lead. 

The man, whose name strip said, O’Mally, nodded. “I know. They didn’t come with any and we have to buy our own stuff, so ... they’re $300 a set. That’s a bit hard for us to come up with.”

Tim grimaced. “I know. It’s got to be tough. But I’m pleased over all. Come on. We’re getting ready to brief.”

Gibbs was team lead on this, as he had the seniority, so he stood at the head of the table with a borrowed big screen behind him. Tim took foot of the table so he could operate the presentation.

Officer O’Mally listened to the plan, then asked, “We are trying to keep the property damage to a minimum ... right?”

Gibbs nodded. “We are. The property belongs to Mr. Loyd. I checked myself, and his lease fees are paid up. The Park Service is sorta in the middle. They’re not trained for this sort of thing and have yielded jurisdiction to us.” His glance took in everyone.

Tim put the last image up on the display and said, “As you can see, the cabin is one large room with an attached mud room at the back. There’s no utilities, so no bathroom. I believe they do have a port-a-potty.”

Tony glared at that. “And what has that to do with the price of eggs in Egypt?”

“Chemicals. If they decide to throw blue water on us, it’s acidic. I’m including a jug of neutralizing agent in the equipment.”

Tony nodded. “Oh. Eyes.”

“Yeah.”

Remy continued the rather cryptic discussion. “Goggles.”

“That works.”

One of the other SWAT team offered. “We don’t have any night vision equipment yet. I might ... let me make a call.” Tony nodded to him so he pulled out his phone and called someone. “We need some night vision stuff, can we borrow something?” He listened for a moment then said, “You’ll actually bring it? Thanks, Uncle Doug, I owe you.” He put his phone away. “My uncle owns a sporting goods store. He’s gonna loan us some hunting equipment for the night.”

Tony grinned at him. “I’ll be sure to thank him personally.”

It wasn’t long before the man showed up with four Sightmark Ghost Hunter 1x24 Night Vision Goggles. He told Tony, “You break ‘em, you bought ‘em. They’re five hundred dollars a unit.”

Tony just nodded at that. “I’ll see that they’re taken good care of. And thanks.”

Doug just shrugged, nodded, and returned to his truck. “Better get back. Good luck.”

Tony was dismayed when he realized that the SWAT team didn’t have any sort of radio yet, and there was no way to get them anything that could be patched into their system. He grumbled about that for nearly ten minutes until Gibbs told him to suck it up and deal.

They had no truck for transport of a large group of armed people, but the local Baptist church had a handicapped bus with wide-spaced seats that a Sergeant in the PD offered. He was an Elder and had consulted with the pastor, who agreed that it was available. Gibbs called the pastor and thanked him. The Sergeant went to collect it and agreed to drive it.

Gibbs had set a watch at the head of the main path to the cabin. One of the younger PD officers volunteered, saying he knew the area and could hide and watch; he’d call if anyone left.

They now had their quarry cornered, even though they didn’t know it. Any attempt to leave the cabin had to go by one of three ways out, and all three were now watched by PD officers, the Park Rangers, or Mr. Loyd, who was posted in the same spot that he’d led Gibbs and Remy to earlier. The Sheriff had called him early that morning and asked him to lead a deputy in. James had called the sheriff a retard and said that any deputy was bound to stomp around like a drunken moose; he’d watch himself. Nothing the Sheriff said would change his mind. 

When the bus came Tony directed the SWAT team to take the front, while the more experienced Pod took the back. They sat in silence until the bus pulled into the small clearing at the head of the hidden trail they were going to take up to the cabin. 

The SWAT team immediately proved that they were all city to the core, as the first off the bus started yelling, “Everyone off! Move it!” Dean opened the side emergency door and actually tackled him, clamping a hand over his mouth and hissing, “Shut the fuck up. Idiot.”

Gibbs was livid, as were the others. He rounded on the man and hissed, “What fuckin’ part of silent damn op don’t you understand, numbnuts? Noise carries in woods like a damn telegraph. Get the fuck back on the damn bus an’ stay there.” He glared around that the other three men who were shuffling their feet, looking damn uncomfortable. “Anyone else wanna yell, snap twigs, or crunch leaves? If you can’t ghost, stay here.” 

The remaining three men just nodded. O’Mally sighed. “I’m sorry about him. He thinks, since he transferred here from Atlanta, he ought to be team lead. He’s not; no one is, yet. We’re all local boys and ... not sure what you mean by ghost, but we’re woods savvy and can be real quiet.”

Gibbs just eyed them. “One damn snap, crackle, or scrape and you’ll fuckin’ stand where you are until you hear shots. Got it?” All three men nodded. “Good. Oscar Mike.”

After some puzzled looks from the remaining SWAT members, they moved out. Gibbs led with Dean next, then Cosmo, Remy, Tony, Jimmy, and Tim; the SWAT team brought up the rear. 

It didn’t take long to reach the narrow canyon where the cabin was situated. The sides weren’t steep, as they would have been someplace like the Rockies, but they were covered with heavy brush and very rocky. The clearing where the cabin was wasn’t that large, and the head of the canyon contained the small lake that was Earlean’s fishin’ spot.

Gibbs gave last-minute orders in ASL, then watched as Tim, Jimmy, Dean, and Cosmo moved out to cut off any path of flight. He nodded to Tony and Remy, then signed, /Move out with me./ He motioned to the three SWAT members, who closed up with him. His whisper wouldn’t have carried more than six feet, but his expression let them know that even that much noise displeased him. “You stay behind Remy, but stay close.” They nodded their understanding.

Four soft clicks on the radio let Gibbs know that his team mates were in position. He nodded to Tony and Remy, then slipped up to the porch as silently as a shadow. A flick of his hand had Tony on the right side of the door, while Remy took the left. He kicked the door in and caught it with his shoulder as it bounced off the wall. Tony tossed a flash/bang, then went left and low, Remy went right and high. They kept their eyes closed so the flash wouldn’t blind them, but a yelp from behind let them know that someone hadn’t. 

A quick movement got them into position, Gibbs in the lead, with Tony on his left and Remy on his right, both one step behind. As they were expecting resistance, they were ready for anything. What they got was nothing. 

There were four men in the room, two in sleeping bags on the floor and two in a bunk bed against the wall. The two men in the sleeping bags just stared until Tony barked, “On your knees! Hands behind your heads!” Then they scrambled to obey. The man in the upper bunk didn’t wait for orders; he joined them at Remy’s motion. The man in the bottom bunk only moaned a bit. He was obviously hors de combat.

Gibbs called the SWAT team in and ordered, “Cuff ‘em. Keep an eye on ‘em.” He clicked his radio then said, “Clear.” Seconds later Dean and Cosmo joined them, ready for anything.

Dean looked around, saw that all the men were already handcuffed, and grumbled, “That’s it? I thought they were some sort of savages. This is just ...” he waved a hand, “Pathetic.”

Gibbs nodded, “It is. See if you can’t find a light switch, lantern, or ... something.” 

Dean absently saluted, “Okay. Failing that ... what?”

Tony called, “No electric up here, but there’re about four lanterns, an’ they’re all full. Come light this place up.”

While Tony and Dean were lighting the lanterns, Gibbs called Tim and Jimmy in. He also kept an eye on the SWAT team and their prisoners. 

Jimmy and Tim came in, easing in the door and checking the situation before doing anything. Gibbs pointed to the bottom bunk. “Jimmy, figure out what’s wrong with that guy.”

Jimmy went to the bunk and dropped his pack. “Okay.” He eyed the man for a moment, then said, “I’d ask you where it hurts but ... it’s kinda obvious.” He touched the man’s leg then said, “He’s got a broken leg and it’s turned septic. We’ll have to carry him out. I’m not touchin’ him without x-rays and shit.”

There was a quick scramble to assemble a stretcher from a couple of saplings that Dean cut, and blankets from the bunk. 

Cosmo eyed Tim. “You okay?”

Tim had a funny look on his face; his eyes were glassy and his face was red, every now and then his shoulders would shake a bit. “Yeah. I’m fine. Really.” He gave up and started to snicker. “Oh, man. That one guy is actually cryin’. Seriously?”

Cosmo looked at the man Tim pointed to; he was sobbing softly, tears trickling down his cheeks. “Anticlimactic. Really?”

They dealt with the three prisoners by assigning one SWAT member and one SEAL to guard each of them. Jimmy and Gibbs took the stretcher, while Tim went ahead to call on the local radio in the bus and get an ambulance.

The ambulance had obviously been on standby somewhere close, as it arrived almost as soon as the team came out of the woods. Jimmy trotted over to consult with the medics, which resulted in the man, whose ID said he was Malcolm Woods, being handcuffed to the gurney, put in the ambulance, and accompanied to the hospital by the man they were calling “Bigmouth;” this got him out of the way.

The other three men were stuffed into the middle seats on the bus, bracketed by the remaining SWAT and Pod members. The driver started the bus and got them back to the station in less than fifteen minutes.

The three prisoners had remained silent during the drive, except for the one who spent the entire drive sobbing into his seat mate’s shoulder. Gibbs was sorely tempted to smack him in the head. Instead, he turned them over to Sheriff Madigan, saying, “Here. And will you please shut that Sad Sack up? Seriously.”

The Sheriff was glad to take all three of the prisoners into his custody. “Thanks.” He nodded in the direction of a rather officious-looking man. “PA wants to question them. He’s got the report that Tim wrote, and everything from everyone else. Might want to question your people. You goin’ back to the spa?”

“If you don’t need us ... yes.” Gibbs rubbed his face. “There is not enough coffee in the world to make me deal with a lawyer tonight.”

He nodded to the PA, who just nodded back; happily, he didn’t look like he wanted words tonight.

Tony signed turnover papers that someone had already filled out, adding names as soon as they’d gotten ID. “Ok, thanks. Guys! Let’s put wheels under this bitch. I’m done.”

They scrambled for the cars, dumping gear into trunks, and left. No one wanted to sit through a tiring, nit-picking debrief. They actively avoided them if they could.

The Sheriff eyed the disappearing taillights, then sighed, “Well, shit. Needed a debrief.”

The PA snorted. “I know their sort. They’ll avoid it as long as they can.”

Sheriff Madigan sighed. “Well, damn, Ed, I was hopin’ to get the damn paperwork out of the way.”

Ed shrugged, “We’ve got three of our men who were on site. We’ve got the prisoners. I do believe we can fill out everything without pestering those men more than necessary. After all, they did save our bacon.”

With that they went into the station to begin the annoying, tedious process of compiling a case against the men. They were very displeased to find that the men had already been taken into Federal Custody by the FBI. The one sent to the hospital was taken to an unknown location by ambulance. They got all the proper paperwork to document the transfer. They were also assured that all four men would be convicted of assault on a federal officer, destruction of private property and any other charges that occurred to them.

.

When they reached the spa, they went directly to the cottage and stripped off, gathering up clean clothing and their dopp kits. Each man wanted a bath in the worst way. This lead to arguments over who went first and who had to wait and who was taking a shower in the communal shower. Dean got a pool noodle from somewhere and ran around smacking the others with it when they tried to get to ‘his’ bathroom. Tony ducked a wild swing and snarled, “Dean. Seriously. Mats.” Dean squealed like a girl and darted into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Tony just sighed. 

Gibbs took advantage of the chaos to start a bath. He ignored Dean, got in the tub and remarked, “If you fuck with my bath, I will fuck you up, Cale.” 

Dean gave him a wide-eyed look. “Ok, fine. You last-named me, man.”

Gibbs slid under the water, popped back up and said, “I will middle name you, dude.”

Dean smirked a bit. “I don’t have a middle name.”

“Deano, you do if I say. Now unlock the damn door and quit being a jackass.” Gibbs rubbed shampoo into his short Ivy League and ignored them all with stoic stubbornness.

Dean unlocked the door and dodged a couple of halfhearted swats. He started the other bath, but got pushed aside by a very grumpy Tim. He didn’t dare retaliate, as Tim was still all sorts of colors and hadn’t been cleared for roughhousing by Jimmy yet. He knew it and took advantage. Dean gave up, smacked Tony with his noodle, then tossed it aside, grumbling, “You’re all no fun.”

Tony sighed. “Three, really. You’re like three years old. Mats. And after me ... Gibbs.” He stepped into the shower and ignored Dean’s whining. 

Cosmo waited until Dean was under a shower head, then reached over and flipped the hot water off. Dean howled in outrage but, when he started to chase Cosmo, he slipped and landed on his ass.

Jimmy eyed him. “If you’ve busted your tail, no sympathy. Stop it before someone really gets hurt. And, if you don’t, I’ll slip you something,” he glowered. “Failing that, I’ll have someone hold you down and jab you in the ass.”

Dean settled, pouting.

Remy showered, dried off and put on sweat pants. He was hungry and said, “I’m fixin’ food. I doan wan’ stuff from a restaurant. Anyone?”

Everyone else agreed that food would be good, so they all dried off, dressed in their sweats, and headed for the kitchen.

It didn’t take them long to find that there wasn’t a bite of food in the place that wasn’t frozen, a box mix, or in some other way unacceptable. 

Remy snarled, “Not gonna get dressed, damn it. Order in.”

Tony nodded. “Not in a social mood either. Someone call someplace.”

Jimmy just picked up the phone, dialed the front desk and said, “We’re tired, hungry, and not in the mood to go out. Bring us something.” He then hung up. “There. Food’s on the way.”

It wasn’t long before a cheerful young lady arrived with a huge box on the back of her golf cart. “Hello! How is everyone this wonderful evening? I’ve got a box full of pizza for you. If you don’t mind, would someone help me in with it?”

Tony shambled out to help her carry the hot box in. 

“You look like you’re not real happy. Can I help?” She pulled the box halfway off the cart to let Tony get hold of the other handle.

Tony got the handle then said, “Not really. We’re all grumpy and hungry. Combat crash.”

“Oh, well, if you need anything else, let the desk know.” She nearly tripped on the threshold but Cosmo caught her while Remy got the handle she dropped. “Oh, my. I’m so sorry. But ...” she watched as Remy and Tony got the box to the table. “I’ll unload that and be out of your way in a sec…” but she didn’t have to bother. Tony opened the box, pulled the whole stack of pizza boxes out, and handed the hot box off to Remy, who just took it back to the cart with the girl trailing after him.

“We be fine in the mornin’. Just ev’ one a bit cranky after a’ op. You go ‘long now.” Remy dumped the box on the cart, smiled a bit, and went back inside.

The girl took the tip he offered and left to tell her friends that the nice men in the cottage must have had a rotten day.

Remy got back to a mostly silent group. Gibbs’ rules were well known, and one of the house rules was “No talking with a mouthful of food.” Gibbs handed him a slice, then went back to his own pizza.

Since everyone was now in combat crash, they all ate silently, cleaned up, then went to bed. 

It wasn’t long before they were all up again. Jimmy needed to check on Tim, which woke him up. Remy couldn’t sleep because he needed to be near Tony and vice versa. Dean and Cosmo also needed to be near each other. Gibbs woke up because everyone else was up and wandering around.

He took charge when he realized that no one was going to get to sleep again without some changes being made.

“AJ, drag your mattress into the living room. Cosmo, you too. Dean, gather up all the pillows and blankets. Jimmy, you got any of that tea?” Jimmy nodded and went to get it.

It wasn’t long before they had four mattresses in the living room, and every pillow was piled in the middle, every blanket and sheet in the place was spread out across the mattresses.

Jimmy made a huge pot of tea and gave everyone a cup. “I sweetened it with honey, but it’s still really hot.” 

Everyone drank the tea, then settled down to try to sleep again. Remy and Tony were back to back with Gibbs beside Tony. Dean and Cosmo were also back to back, but at right angles to Remy, Tony and Gibbs. Tim flopped down beside Gibbs, while Jimmy wound up face-to-face with Dean. They were all sleeping within ten minutes.

.

Tony woke to his phone ringing. He scrambled around to grab it off the coffee table. “Yeah. What?” The voice at the other end of the connection told him that someone, he didn’t really catch the name, or care, wanted reports from all of them ASAP. “Fine. Email me the contact, and we’ll have ‘em in by tomorrow noon.” The voice squawked at him for a minute. He snarled back, “Well, fuck ‘im and the damn horse he rode in on. If you wanna be that way ... We’ll get ‘em done when we get ‘em done. We did the hard part; the least you can do is wait on fuckin’ paperwork.” He hung up with a jab and flopped back onto the mattress. “I was gonna sleep in.”

Gibbs grumbled, “Well, shit. We’re all awake now. Who was that ... just so I know who I’m gonna shoot when I see ‘im.”

“Some jackwad from Savannah FBI. Bitch. What time is it?”

Dean glanced at his watch. “0800. Half past pancakes and quarter to bacon.”

Gibbs’ phone decided to ring just then. He reached out, rummaged around on the coffee table, and found it. “What?” 

Since he had accidentally punched the speakerphone button, everyone heard the Sheriff say, “Sorry to wake you, but that snot-nosed asshole from the FBI is wantin’ reports ... now. I tol’ him to wait, but he had someone call one ‘a you. I knew you’d all be awake, so I called to apologize and tell you to get ‘em done when you do. Eat, go back to sleep ... whatever.”

“Okay, fine. We’re all awake now. Breakfast, then reports. You’ll have ‘em by ...” he looked around. Tony held up three fingers. “1500. Sooner, maybe. We’ll do ‘em here. They’ve got a huge conference room; no sense in crowdin’ you, since we don’t need your facilities anymore. Can you have our stuff brought out?”

Sheriff Madigan chuckled. “Sho’ can. One of my deputies has already packed up what little you left. That printer ...”

Gibbs interrupted. “It’s yours. We just needed it because yours was so old. Enjoy.”

“Well, that’s mighty kind a’ you. Thanks. Your stuff should be there in ... thirty minutes or so.” You could almost hear him smirk. “As to reports ... I thought it was general procedure for each group to return to their home office before doing paperwork.”

Remy, still half asleep, mumbled, “Leave your laptop at the station, Digimon? That a good idea?”

Tim grumbled back, “Yeah. I locked it with one of those programs I wrote, then put it in my bag and sealed it. You can’t even cut the side out of the bag, it’s that cut-proof fabric.” He rooted around under his pillow for his watch. He glared at the face, then demanded. “Why am I awake?”

Jimmy snarled, “Because some self-important FBI jerk called at this un-Godly hour for reports.”

Cosmo just got up and headed for the kitchen, bitching the whole way. “I want coffee. It’s fuckin’ o’dark-who-the-fuck-cares, and I need caffeine.” He thumped and bumped around, making coffee, complaining bitterly the whole time.

No one said anything about Cosmo’s attitude, as they all agreed with him. Gibbs called Fornell and snarled, “You’re a damn Assistant Director, put a fuckin’ muzzle on that Savannah piss stain,” then hung up before the poor man could do more than sputter.

Everyone got up and wandered around. Dean and Cosmo got dressed, then put the mattresses back on the beds. Remy and Jimmy shook all the covers out, finding cell phones, watches, and Tim’s dog tags. Tony handed the mess to Tim and said, “Keep your damn tags on. If you lose ‘em again, I’ll short-chain ‘em and cold-weld the keeper. Get this shit back to the owners.” 

Tim, who had no idea how his tags got off, just nodded and started figuring out what belonged to whom. It took him about three minutes to throw people’s things in their general direction.

Cosmo yelled, “Coffee!” so everyone went to see what was up. Cosmo had made coffee, set out mugs, then filled them all. All they had to do was get a mug, doctor it, then get out of the next person’s way. This was accomplished quickly, and everyone lounged around the kitchen, swilling coffee and waking up.

While they were doing this, Tim asked, “So, why do we all have to turn in a report to someone we don’t answer to? Sheriff, I can see. FBI? Fuck the whole bunch of ‘em. We did all the hard work, let them finish it up. They stole the case; let ‘em deal.” He returned to his coffee. “All I want is to get home.”

Gibbs made an executive decision, something he was well known for. “Tell you what. We’ll all sit down and make notes. You use that program to compile ‘em. Someone at the FBI office can turn ‘em into whatever report they want. I’ll write up something good for the Sheriff, and we’ll all sign it.” He gave a short, sharp nod. “We can be on the road by ... 1030?”

They all agreed to that, so Dean and Remy scribbled out their preliminary notes, then went to check the bikes. Cosmo answered the knock at the door, took the locker of equipment, thanked the deputy, and offered coffee. The deputy refused with thanks and went away. Tim settled down with his laptop as soon as Cosmo handed him the case. He set up his program, then sat back to finish his coffee before he started his own notes.

It wasn’t long before he got Gibbs’ preliminary notes, then Tony’s. Dean and Cosmo took about a half-hour, with Remy and Jimmy soon after. Gibbs borrowed Tim’s second laptop and typed up a report for the Sheriff, which he knew would also go to the Chief of Police and the Prosecuting Attorney. 

A last call to the center brought breakfast wraps via Hank Loyd. He knocked on the door then just walked in, calling, “Mornin’. Breakfast. Got wraps. Lemme see ... egg an’ bacon with cheese, egg an’ ham no cheese, egg an’ sausage ... that ‘un’s kinda drippy ‘cause they put gravy on it. There’s also turkey, tomato, avocado, an’ feta ... that’s a lot better than it sounds. And some veggie crap that a hog wouldn’t eat. An’ that four-grain hot stuff with dried cranberries an’ some kinda weird nut. Jug a’ cream for that.” He put things on the table as he described them. He chuckled as some things were grabbed out of his hands, while others went to the table. “And Gran’pa sent word to say ‘thanks’ so ... thanks for gettin those jerks out a’ the cabin without tearin’ it all ta shit. We’ll be a week cleanin’ it up as it is. But, thanks again. Oh! An’ Uncle Dan said sorry he didn’t come to the station, even if he did promise in the restaurant. He don’t get along with lawmen much.” He smiled around. “Now ... I better be gettin’ back.” He nodded once, then took his hot box and left.

No one said much, and the only sounds were chewing and scribbling as everyone took the opportunity to finalize the last of their notes for Tim.

Tim ate and worked. It wasn’t long before he had all the notes compiled.

Gibbs finished his report to the Sheriff, then scowled at the laptop. “How the hell do I send this shit?” He wasn’t used to this laptop; he was used to his at home and the one at NCIS.

Tony looked over his shoulder. “Write your email, then send that as an attachment. Or cut and paste the whole thing into the email. I’d recommend an attachment.”

Gibbs scowled. “I know that. Where’s the dohicky I click on?”

Tony pointed. “Attach. Drop down. Select. Click on ‘Attachment’. Then ... send. There.” He waited while Gibbs got an email open then wandered off.

Gibbs wrote a short email to let the Sheriff know what he was sending, then actually managed to make an attachment that worked. He was a bit proud of himself for that.

Tony checked that everyone had packed their rucks, not left anything behind, and turned in the last of their notes to Tim. He checked with Tim to see that he had his compilation done; he did, and it was sent.

Gibbs snagged one last wrap, one of the drippy ones. They were good, and it wasn’t that hard to take a bite then hold it over the sink to let the excess gravy drip out. He was doing that when Tony ambled over. “All chores done. Paperwork submitted. Shit gathered and packed. We’ll have to leave that footlocker behind; no room. I put a note on it to take it to the Loyds’. Anything else?”

Gibbs munched on his wrap as he went over things in his head. After a couple of bites, he swallowed, then said, “Don’t believe so.”

Tim called the Center, thanked them for their hospitality, and said they’d be leaving in about ten minutes. The lady at the desk thanked him for the help and apologized for his injuries. They exchanged pleasantries for a moment, then Tim hung up. “All done.”

It didn’t take them long to run one final check of the cottage for forgotten things, check the motors out, gear up, and head out.

Jimmy said, “Man, Tim, I really missed you behind me; and not because you ran the com.”

Tim chuckled, which everyone heard.

They rumbled past the center and down the drive, amazed to see people waving to them as they went by. 

As soon as they left the private drive and got on the blacktop, Gibbs ordered, “Crank it.” They roared off in a cloud of exhaust, headed for the main highway as fast as was safe. They were anxious to be home.

.

Old joke (because I know someone is going to ask) 

A man went to the doctor because he had some pain in his arm.

When the doctor came in, he asked what the problem was.

The man explained that he had a pain in his arm when he moved it. He demonstrated and groaned, “It really hurts when I do that.”

The doctor made a note in his chart, then said, “Well, don’t do that.”

Yeah, one of the dumbest jokes on the planet.


End file.
